


A Tale from the Mojave.

by Prime117



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, Drinking & Talking, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/F, Gambling, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prime117/pseuds/Prime117
Summary: A lone courier, tasked with something as simple as delivering a package, finds herself unknowingly caught in the middle of something bigger than she'd ever been apart of. After being personally wronged, the courier decides to embark on a journey to find those responsible. What she doesn't realize, however, is just how big of a storm was brewing. How can a single courier expect to find her resolution amidst chaos?





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I think I'd enjoy working on. I decided to play Fallout: New Vegas again and put everything I do into words. I can't imagine many people will end up reading it, but I don't really care about views. It's just nice to see progression.
> 
> If you enjoy what I've got so far, feel free to put a comment down and tell me. 
> 
> Also, there will be relationships in the future; however, I only chose not to put it in the tags because I would hate for people get the wrong idea of what this work is all about.

One of the things nobody ever mentions about the Mojave is how cold the nights get. When people think of the desert, they picture scorching sand, blistering heat, and an unforgivable sun. Yet, a chill ran down a woman’s spine. A woman that found herself in quite the predicament. She hadn’t remembered much about the package she was carrying, other than she was to deliver it to one of the last remaining bastions of the Old World - the Strip, what remained of the old city of Las Vegas. 

She never arrived.

The courier was intercepted by a gang known as the Great Khans. Merciless junkies that provided nothing for the Mojave, other than conflict that it didn’t need. They jumped her on the Long-15, an old highway that directed its travellers straight to the light in shining darkness that was New Vegas. 

Now she found herself bound, struggling to gain control over her movement once again.

“You got what you were after, so pay up!” Someone demanded. 

“You’re crying in the rain, pally,” A noticeably pampered voice replied, almost humored by the other man’s demands.

The woman came-to with her vision blurred. She twisted and turned her hands, hoping to loosen them from the rope restraints. No luck. They were bound tightly. Maybe she’d try to run? No. No, they bound her feet, too. She tried to speak - they taped her mouth shut, too. She wasn’t walking out of this one.

“Guess who’s waking up over here,” a scraggly voice called.

Fully understanding the shit-show that she found herself to be in, the courier turned to look at her kidnappers. At the very least, she’d look them in the eye before they killed her. 

Three men stood in front of her. One black, two white - and only two were Great Khans. The other… the other was something entirely different. He was dressed in a checkered suit, a cigarette in his mouth. He was so neatly cleaned that the courier doubted he was there when they nabbed her.

In a moment, the suited man threw his cigarette to the ground. As the two Khans stared at him in anticipation, he crushed the tobacco product beneath his boot. Full of confidence, he declared: “Time to cash out.”

The gap between the courier and the checkered-suit man grew smaller.

The Great Khan to the left shot his arms out, clearly having lost his sense of patience. “Will you get it over with?”

The man in charge rose a finger up, never breaking his eye contact with the courier. He was patient, willing to wait however long it took to make sure every loose end was tied. “Maybe Khans kill someone without looking them in the face… but I ain’t a fink, ya’ dig?”

 

The noticeably city-slicker man sent a hand into the inside of his suit jacket. Still never breaking eye contact, he removed the item the courier was meant to deliver - a single gambling chip coated in platinum. The man proudly held it up for the courier to see. He wanted her to know he’d taken her delivery away.

“You’ve made your last delivery, kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”

The same hand snuck back into the suit jacket. He dug around for a moment, gripping something inside. Within an instant, a platinum 9mm handgun was removed from its holster beneath his jacket. He showed it off, leaving it out and by his side for the courier to witness all its glory.

And witness she did. The handgun only confirmed her suspicions about her death. The Great Khans being involved in this made her have her thoughts, but perhaps she put too much faith in the idea that this finely dressed man would have spared her.

“From where you’re kneeling must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck. Truth is?”

The gun went up. Pointed directly at her, the courier was able to see directly down the barrel. She saw the bullet sleeping snug inside the barrel.

“The game was rigged from the start.”

Bang.


	2. Goodsprings: Part 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The courier comes back to life, thanks to a robot and an old man. Now where'd she end up?

She was definitely dead. The courier could feel it.

Then again, dead people don’t feel, do they? Or do they? I guess no one really knows the answer to that. As far as she knew, no one’s ever fully died and come back to life. Maybe in the Old World?

She recalled these… memories. Very lucid memories, almost as if she was reliving them again. Memories of her transporting these packages through Nevada. There was this stretch of road that went over an old pre-war town. What was it called?

The memories morphed into something rotten. The buildings withered and died, crumbling to the Nevada sun. Nothing was left untouched, not even-

In an instant, the courier’s mind garbled. Her eyes fluttered open, up to the scene of a running fan above her. The ceiling was torn apart. Paint chips were missing entirely, but for the most part, everything seemed to be working.

“You’re awake. How ‘bout that?” 

The voice came off to her left. Her eyes were still adjusting to the light, but still tried to sit up. An animalistic, almost primal anger filled her lungs with scorching air seeped in hate. She turned to her left, barely making out a man in farm-hand clothing reaching out to grab her arm. Maybe she wasn’t as steady as she thought she’d be.

“Whoa - easy there, easy,” The gentle spoken man proclaimed. Feeling she was steady enough, the man relaxed back in his seat. “You’ve been out cold a couple’a days now. Why don’t you just relax a sec’, get your bearings?”

The courier found herself studying the room, an unrecognizable room that was littered with medical supplies. She understood she was in some kind of treatment room, and that, more than likely, this man had been the one to ensure she hadn’t died.

And speaking of the man, he had leaned back in his seat. “Let’s see what the damage is… how ‘bout your name? Can you tell me your name?”

The courier thought long and hard. Her memories were still a garbled mess, nothing incomprehensible inside her - other than one memory. The memory of a man in a checkered suit pointing a gun to her head.

“My name?” The courier asked, dumbfounded. Why couldn’t she remember her name? She remembered delivering a package - or, well, she was supposed to. She remembered that there were five other couriers instructed to do the same thing as her. She was the last on that list, if she could recall.

“I’m.. a courier.”

“Okay, courier… do you remember your name?” The grey-haired man asked again.

The courier rose a hand up and pointed to herself, almost unsure of whether or not she was even correct about this. “I’m… the sixth courier. Courier six.”

The gentleman nodded his head, presumably thinking over the damage the bullet had caused. She had some kind of memory loss, clearly. “Okay, courier six… hah, can’t say it’s what I’d’ve picked for you, but if that’s your name that’s your name.”

He rose a hand up, as well. He laid it on his chest and spoke gently. “I’m Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I had to go rootin’ around there in your noggin’ to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you’d better tell me if I left anythin’ out of place.”

Beneath Doc Mitchell’s seat was a small, almost rectangular device. He grabbed onto it and offered it out for the courier to take. “How’d I do?”

The device was unlike anything courier six had seen before. A piece of RobCo technology known as the Reflectron. This device essentially allowed for the user to sculpt themselves however they’d like - for practical uses like seeing how your hair would look as a different color, how you’d look when you get older, if you need glasses, things like that. They were almost always used back in the Old World. A mother that just birthed her child was able to see what the child would look like when they were an adult. Sure, it spoiled the surprise, but it was fun to glimpse into the future briefly.

Most of the courier’s information was correct already. She zoomed out on the model to get a better look at herself.

Her hair was a dark brown - almost black, but not yet that dark. Her skin was tanned thanks to the Mojave sun constantly burning down on her. Her eyes seemed… smaller than what she remembered, but that was probably nothing more than a mistake on the device. 

Content with the image she was looking at, courier six handed it back over. “Yeah, that - uh, that looks good.”

Doc Mitchell stood up out of his seat. “Well, I got most of it right anyway, stuff that matters. Okay, no sense in keeping you in bed anymore-” The doctor grabbed on to her hands and helped pull her up. Within an instant, her vision blurred, and the colors of the room seemed to brighten momentarily. She felt nauseous, fighting back an urge to vomit all over the good man’s outfit.  
“Let’s see if we can’t get you back on your feet. Good. Why don’t you walk down to the end of the room, over by that vigor tester machine? Take it slow, now - it ain’t a race.”

He turned to walk towards the machine he pointed out before. Courier Six - Six, for short - followed him over to it. Now that she had a good chance to finally look at herself, Six noticed that she was only dressed in an uncomfortable brasserie and a set of shorts that looked fit for a child, not a woman in her…. How old was she again? 34? Even without the brain trauma she just received, Six barely remembered how old she was.

Birthdays came and went in the wasteland. You were lucky to make it to another one, but you never counted on it. Death always seemed to be at your door.

Alright, enough bullshit. She couldn’t fill her mind with thoughts like that while she still had things to do. Like find that piece of shit in the suit that put a new scar on her already damaged skin. Stupid prick.

“Lookin’ good so far. Go ahead and give the vigor tester a try. We’ll learn right quick if you got back all your faculties.”

Speaking of stupid pricks, as Six set her hand on the joystick, a small needle shot out where her thumb lay and drew some blood from her. She hissed at the pain, caught immediately off guard by it. Still, the device went to work, moving without any resistance.

Her scores went:

STRENGTH: 5

PERCEPTION: 5

ENDURANCE: 6

CHARISMA: 8

INTELLIGENCE: 7

AGILITY: 5

LUCK: 4

“Good to see them bullets didn’t affect your charm none. Well, we know your vitals are good, but that don’t mean them bullets didn’t leave you nuttier than a bighorner dropping. What do you say you take a seat on my couch and we go through a couple questions? See if your dogs are still barking.”

Six nodded her head a few times and followed Doc Mitchell through to the next room. This must have been his living room, because he had plenty of books for people to read, and some magazines strewn about. Maybe she’d sneak one out of here before she left. As she sat down, she felt a jolt through her brain - a sharp pain that resonated around where her stitches were. No doubt she’d continue to feel that for the rest of her days.

“All right.. I’m gonna’ say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Dog.”

“Cat.”

“House.”

“Shelter.”

“Night.”

“Dream.”

“Kill.”

“Light.”

“Dark.”

“Mother.”

Six paused at that. A small sigh came out of her nostrils. While her head began to shake subtly, she mumbled the word: “Regret.”

“Okay. Now, I’ve got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much the sound like something you’d say. First one: Conflict just ain’t in my nature.”

“Dis..disagree, yeah.”

“I ain’t given to relying on others for support.”

“Strongly agree.” Well, she might have lied on that one. Six liked to tell herself that she could handle being alone for long periods of time, but as the social creatures that humans are, interaction is always important.

“I’m always fixin’ to be the center of attention.”

“Strongly disagree.”

“I’m slow to embrace new ideas.”

“Hmm.. uh.. Neutral?”

“I charge in to deal with my problems head-on.”

“Strongly agree.”

The doctor nodded his head. He pulled out a set of paintings from behind his seat and stuck them up on a stand next to him. “Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see.”

Six examined the first painting. She looked it over closely, before stating: “An angry two-headed ant.”

“Okay. How about this one?” He removed the first slide and set it aside. 

“I see.. Uh, it’s some piece of space-age technology.”

“Last one,” Doc Mitchell said, as he pulled away to the final painting.

Six seemed taken aback at the final painting. She let out a slow whistle between her two bottom teeth and nodded. “A light in the darkness.”

Doc Mitchell hummed, writing down everything he had examined onto a notepad. “Very interesting. Maybe a little disturbing, but interesting. I don’t have nothin’ to compare it to, so maybe you’d better just have a look at the results. See if it seems right to you.”

He handed the notepad over to Six, who promptly took it and began to do as she was asked. Or - really, she just skimmed through it, occasionally reading something more than once. Nothing really seemed too outlandish for her, so after bullshitting her way through most everything on the paper, she handed it back over to Mitchell. 

“Before I turn you loose, I need one more thing from you. I got a form for you to fill out, so I can get a sense of your medical history. Just a formality.” He paused to briefly laugh. “Ain’t like I expect to find you got a family history of gettin’ shot in the head.”

When she took the form, Six filled in all the information that Doc Mitchell was looking for. She filled in her mother and father’s name, and listed them both as deceased. As far as she knew, there weren’t any medical illnesses that ran down her family tree - well, none that weren’t typical for the wasteland. Admittedly, she half-assed more than half of her answers, simply because she just didn’t really give a shit about what was on the paper. The faster she got out of here, the better.

“All right, I guess that about does it. Come with me, I’ll see you out,” Doc Mitchell said as he stood up. He walked past Six and headed down a narrow hallway - and sooner or later, she eventually got back up, too. 

Does this guy have my clothes? Six thought to herself.

As she approached Mitchell, he handed her a small backpack, a 9mm handgun, a few magazines, a sharpened machete, and a vault suit - the vault suit definitely wasn’t hers. 

“Here, these are yours. Was all you had in you when you was brought in. I hope you don’t mind, but I gave that note a look to try an’ help me find a next of kin. But it was just somethin’ about a platinum chip.”

He reached down at his forearm and pulled off a device - a device Six had actually run into more than a few times.

“Well, if you’re headin’ back out there, you ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain’t much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after all you been through. I know what it’s like, having something taken from you.” 

With a grin on his face, Doc Mitchell gestured to the vault suit now held by courier six. “And put this on, too, so the locals don’t pick on you for lacking modesty. Was my wife’s.” He paused, as if he were silently going through the memories carried in that old mind of his. He tapped on his chin a few times. “I think she was about your size, and she hardly wore if after we left the vault. Felt it was too brazen.”

Six slipped her legs into the skin-tight suit that enclosed around her body. He was right, it was about her size - maybe even a little small. No matter, she fit into it well enough, and managed to zip up the backside so she wasn’t so nude. Her bare feet tucked away into some torn up socks, a very thin layer of cloth that did its just protecting her feet. After that, they went into a pair of black combat boots, presumably Doc Mitchell’s wife’s, too. 

She looked up to the man as she tied her boots. “Thanks for patching me up, Doc.”

He dismissively waved his hand, humorously huffing air out his nose. “Ah, don’t mention it. It’s what I’m here for.”

Six stood back up and hooked a small gun-belt to her waist, tightening it so it wouldn’t move around unnecessarily. She holstered her handgun down by her hip and fastened it in place. The traveller’s backpack was slung around her shoulders, noticeably empty thanks to the friends she made a few days ago.

“You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She’ll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta’ your grave. Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I’ll fix you up.” 

A moment’s pause went by, before Mitchell smirked. “But try not to get killed anymore.”

Six headed towards the door, eager to get back out to the Mojave. “No promises, Doc,” She retaliated, before pushing the door forward. Her first step out into the Mojave was a blinding one - her vision filled with a blinding white light, unable to see anything thanks to the damned sun that took its toll on those that dared to live beneath it.

Damn.. was it always this fuckin’ bright out here?

Her vision eventually cleared. The town came into view. Goodsprings. A small, desolate town that barely saw any visitors, thanks to it straying off the Long 15. People only ever stopped here to get a drink of water from the nearby well - never to stay in the town. 

Regardless, it still had some people in it. One man off to her left was tilling a field, getting ready to plant another harvest. Another man was rustling some bighorners off near the center of town. And… that metal fella’, Victor - the one that Doc MItchell mentioned, was strolling on by the street. 

Maybe she’d better avoid that robot. So, she did, following behind its footsteps until she eventually stepped up to the saloon’s ragged door. An older fellow wearing a brimmed straw hat sat by the side.

I don’t think he’s Sunny Smiles.

The pair exchanged a nod. Six pushed the door open. As it shut, she heard the growling of a dog, before -

“Cheyenne, stay!”

An attractive red-head approached Six. She sent a nod down towards the dog, then put her attention to the blue-suited female that just came in.

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite unless I tell her to.”

“Right… Doc Mitchell said you could teach me to survive in the desert?” Six lacked any enthusiasm as she spoke. She knew what it took to survive in this shithole of a desert.

“Yeah, I guess there’s a thing or two I could show you. Sounds like you could use all the help you can get after what they done to you. Come on, let’s head to the back of the saloon.”

Sunny gestured Six along. As one woman followed the other, another man came in from behind her. Six managed to sneak a peek - a black man with body armor on. He had some kind of correctional facility uniform on, and he didn’t look like a local.

It wasn’t something to bother herself with. She took to following Sunny out the back.

The leather suit Sunny wore hugged her body tight. Her top cut off just above her belly button, showing the skin that dared to expose itself to the heat. She walked with a swagger that said she could clearly hold her own if some asshat tried to screw with her - so Six decided maybe it wasn’t worth trying.

The pair approached the top of a small mound. Sunny’s rifle, a 5.56mm varmint rifle, was tossed over. Six fumbled it, nearly dropping it to the ground.

“Now, see those sarsaparilla bottles on the fence there? Take this and try to hit a couple of them.”

There were seven bottles in total, all lined up along a wooden fence. Six raised the rifle and fired.

The first shot slammed into the old bottle. The round tore through the glass and hit the wall behind it.

Six silently questioned the ethics of shooting at a building that had people in it, but she wasn’t the one that was giving the lesson, was she?

“That’s the right idea. Now hit another.”

She did as asked. Another shot was fired from the rifle, and the same as last time happened. Glass exploded, concrete fluttered - a solid shot from the courier.

Sunny moved a hand to Six’s shoulder. She could feel her pushing down. “Try crouching down and staying still. It’ll help your aim.”

The courier lowered herself to the ground. A knee dug into the dirt beneath her, and she found herself lining up another shot on the poor, unsuspecting bottles. The third bottle down the line said its goodbyes as Six fired. This time, the bullet hit the top of the bottle, completely destroying the neck of the glassy piece. The rest of the bottle fumbled to the ground, staying whole even as it impacted on the dirt.

“Nice shot,” said Ms. Smiles, as she reached to take her rifle back. Six handed it over, not too big of a fan of rifles, anyway. Pistols always seemed to do the trick. “Well, that’s a start. But I don’t reckon you came to me to learn to fight sarsaparilla bottles. Tell you what.”

Sunny paused, placing a hand on her hip. She leaned to the side, staring Six down. “I gotta’ go chase geckos away from our water supply anyway. Darn critters are attracted to it. Why don’t you come along?”

Six shook her head. “No thanks, Sunny. I think I’ve learned enough.”

“Suit yourself,” Sunny said with a bit of disappointment hidden in her voice. “Hope you learned from this. I’m heading back now. Hope I didn’t miss anything good on the jukebox. Cheyenne would never forgive me.” 

Before Six was able to say anything else, Sunny reached out and set a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, do me a favor. Trudy - she’s the bartender up at the prospector, kind of the town mom - she likes to meet newcomers. She’d be cross with me if I didn’t ask you to poke your head in and say hi.”

“Got it. I’ll head there.”

Six started off first, walking back down the mound and towards the way they came in. 

The man from before - the one in the correctional suit - held a fist towards a woman in a dress. Six assumed it was probably Trudy. “I’m done being nice. If you don’t hand Ringo over soon, I’m gonna’ get my friends, and we’re burning this town to the ground! Got it?!”

The woman that was most likely Trudy spoke up, completely unimpressed by the man’s threat. “We’ll keep that in mind. Now, if you’re not going to buy something, get out.”

Angered, the man huffed and turned around. He kept a hand down by his revolver as he made his way out of the bar.

Trudy scoffed, turning back towards the counter. Six approached and took a seat at one of the empty stools. “You Trudy?”

“Well, now you’ve been causing quite a stir. Glad I finally got to meet you. Welcome to the Prospector Saloon!”

“That guy - what’d he want? What was that argument all about?” Six’s curiosity got the better of her. She promised herself she wouldn’t get involved with this, but she at least wanted to know.

Trudy shrugged her shoulders. “Looks like our little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we don’t want anything to do with. About a week ago, this trader, Ringo, comes into town. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him, needs a place to hide. We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. We didn’t expect anyone to come after him.”

“Town’s not so big. How come Cobb ain’t found Ringo yet?”

“Cobb hasn’t exactly been looking for Ringo too hard - I think he’s afraid Ringo will ambush him, which is probably true.”

Six hummed to herself. She scratched at her neck and sighed. “And where’s Ringo now?” 

“He’s holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill.”

“So, why not just kill Cobb and be done with it?”

Trudy’s eyebrows furrowed. Her head shook lightly. “You mean murder him? That’s not our way, even if Cobb is scum. He can bluster and threaten all he wants.”

“Huh… okay. What are you going to do, then?”

“Well, some of the others, like Sunny, will probably stand up for Ringo if he asks for help, which he hasn’t. Personally, I hope he sneaks out of town one night and takes the Powder Gangers with him.”

Powder Gangers. Yeah, Six knew about them. Scum that got armed with dynamite thanks to the NCR’s incompetence. If they were terrorizing traders, they had to be stopped. That was her job market.

“Never mind,” Six muttered, remembering what she was really supposed to do. “I’m tryin’ to track down the people who attacked me. You know anything about them?”

“Not much, other than they’re a bunch of freeloaders that expected a few rounds on the house. I was able to get them to pay up, though. ‘Course, one of the Great Khans did knock my radio to the floor ‘by accident’, and it hasn’t been working since.”

Six held up an open hand. “I don’t care about your radio,” She spit out, almost accidently hostile. “Where did those guys go?”

“They were having some kind of argument, but the guy in the checkered coat kept shushing them. Sounded like they came in through the north, through Quarry Junction. If that’s the case I can’t say I blame them for not wanting to go back.”

“Yeah. I know that route. Plenty of nasty creatures all up that road. Guess only a man that dresses like he does wouldn’t know which routes to take.”

That got a laugh out of Trudy. “Yep, guess so. Must have come from Vegas.”

“You think that’s where they’re headed, then? New Vegas?”

“Well, I didn’t hear exactly, but their leader was talkin’ about the Strip. Fella’ wants to get there and avoid the 15, he’d have to go east. Take Highway 93 up.”

Six laid a hand on the counter and gave it a pat. “Well, I appreciate the help, Trudy. I guess I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You be careful out there.”

Six pushed herself up from the stool and headed towards the door.

Actually, maybe she would go have a chat with this “Cobb” fellow. As she pushed the door open, she turned to her right, towards the older gentleman that had a beard that even the most experienced wastelander wished they could grow.”

“You seen that man that just walked out? The Powder Ganger? Where’d he go?”

Without a word, the man pointed down the street, directly south. “Thank you, sir,” Six said in appreciation. She headed off towards the way she was directed.

A tumbleweed drifted past her, jumping past one of the Old World vehicles that stayed after all this time. Maybe some of them worked?

God, when was the last time she even saw a working vehicle? Somewhere out near north California?

It didn’t matter, because she immediately focused on the man in front of her. Cobb was stood leaned against the side of a house, smoking a cigarette passively while he presumably waited for the rest of his pals to show up. He kept a hand by his gun as Six approached him.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“What was that you said about Ringo?”

“He’s some trader that decided he’d rather shoot than pay the toll for being in our territory. He’s hiding somewhere in this town. Would serve these idiots right if me and my guys shot the place up after we got payback on Ringo.”

“And.. you said this area is your territory?”

“It is now. Me and the rest of the guys busted out of the NCR prison east of here and-”

Cobb never got to finish his sentence. Six drew her handgun and leveled it, taking the man by surprise.

She fired one round. One round that went into Cobb’s neck and exited behind him, hitting the wall that was painted in his blood. Some of it spewed onto Six’s suit. 

She silently thanked herself that this suit wasn’t hers to begin with. Blood was probably impossible to wash out.

Cobb slid down the wall, holding his hands against his neck in a futile effort to stop the bleeding.

 

To comfort herself, Six thought about all the people this prick probably killed. People just trying to earn a living by selling some gear from town to town. Caravans had it hard enough dealing with raiders and the Legion; they didn’t need some other faction to come in and fuck things up for them.

The blood continued to squirt from the newly made hole in Cobb’s neck, before the life slowly faded away in his eyes. His body slumped against the ground, muscles falling limp. He died just by her feet.

She came to a knee and grabbed the revolver he so happily grabbed all the time. A .357 magnum that looked like it had barely ever been repaired. He also had 6 spare rounds in one of his pockets that were promptly tucked away in hers. The revolver slid into her waist band, the barrel taking refuge by her groin.

All right. Time to find Ringo.

God damn it. Why am I getting involved in this shit?


	3. Goodsprings: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courier Six deals with the repercussions of instigating a fight. She needs to try and get people together to deal with this Powder Ganger problem, but who's going to help? Why is she even getting involved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the guest who gave kudos last night: Thank you. It was nice to see you enjoyed it enough to show me. I hope you will continue to enjoy the chapters I put out.

Courier Six, after having gunned down Jacob Cobb, one of the members of the infamous Powder Gangers crew, eventually made her way up to the gas station Trudy pointed out. On her way up there, she took note once again of how empty the town seemed to be. A few heads poked out to check what the gunfire was all about, but not many seemed to care. Maybe it was because they knew it was Cobb getting what was coming to him.

The maybes didn’t matter. Six had to focus on what she knew for sure. And what she knew for sure was that a gun was being pointed at her as soon as she entered the station’s shop. 

“That’s close enough,” A rather young voice exclaimed. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

Six’s hands lifted up in the air, palms open to show she wasn’t a threat. “I’m not an enemy, if that’s what you’re asking,” She said while jerking her head towards the direction of the gun.

The man followed the direction she gave out. He looked down to the gun, sighed, and nodded his head. “Sorry about the gun. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” He holstered his gun down into his waistband and pointed to a small deck of cards. “We got off to a bad start. What say we start over with a friendly game of Caravan. You know how to play?”

Not having any of the man’s bullshit, Six dismissively waved her hand. “A man named Joe Cobb was looking for you, but I just killed him.”

Ringo, Six eventually remembered, squinted his eyes and shrugged. “Err, thanks, I guess. Cobb wasn’t the problem, though - I could have handled him if he ever found me. Cobb’s friends are the bigger problem, and when he doesn’t get back, they’ll be coming here for blood. There’s no way I can fight them all.”

“Okay, well, what are you going to do about them? The Powder Gangers?”

“I’m going to lay low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn’t throw me to the wolves. I’ve got no chance against the gang on my own.”

Six casually patted the grip of her newly acquired .357 magnum. “So, you need a hired gun. I’m available.”

Ringo stayed quiet a moment, until he nodded his head and gave in. “All I’ve got left on me are a handful of caps, but you get me out of here, and I’ll make sure the Crimson Caravan pays you back. You’ve got my word.”

“It’ll have to do,” Six muttered, deciding not to try and bargain for anything else. “What now?”

With a noticeably sarcastic smirk on his face, Ringo shook his head and leaned on the shop’s counter. “We’d just end up sharing the same grave if it’s just the two of us. Now, if some of the other people in town were also on board….”

Six held up a hand to cut him off, understanding where he was going. “All right, I’ll ask around and see who I can round up.”

“Start with Sunny Smiles. She’s been friendlier than most around here.” Ringo turned his back to the courier and trotted off to a duffle bag besides his rotting bed. She watched him dig around for some ammunition, before deciding to do as instructed. After all, this was now a job she was getting paid to do.

The last time she saw Sunny Smiles was back at the Prospector Saloon, so that’s where she’d go first. After having stumbled down the beat up, almost destroyed road that ran through the town, Six decided she definitely wouldn’t be staying here for the night. This place was as entertaining as watching a brahmin eat dusty grass.

Upon entering the saloon again, the courier half expected to be attacked by that dirty mutt again. Fortunately, she wasn’t, because Sunny Smiles - the girl she came to see - was singing quietly along with a song on the jukebox. Cheyenne seemed too enthralled with her that she didn’t seem to care about any intruders.

Sunny Smiles looked up and saw Six. Sadly, it wasn’t the look Six was trying to get. Sunny seemed more anxious and on edge when Six approached.

“I don’t think Joe Cobb knew what hit him. I’m hoping you took him down for a good reason and not… for fun.”

Six scoffed at the idea of this random woman thinking she knew the motives behind her killing. Still, she needed Sunny for this upcoming fight. “No, of course I didn’t do it for fuckin’ fun. Ringo needs my help taking on the Powder Gangers, and I need you-”

Sunny stole Six’s signature move and held her palm up, cutting off the woman that so casually did it to other people. “Say no more. I’m in.”

An eyebrow rose up on the tanned mailwoman. “Just like that?”

Sunny laid a hand on Six’s shoulder and nodded. “Just like that,” She confirmed. “I have a feeling that I’m going to end up fighting those guys one way or another, so I might as well get it over with. Even though Joe Cobb’s dead, his friends will come after the town eventually. However, between you, me, and Ringo, we aren’t exactly a force to be reckoned with. A lot of people round here look up to Trudy. If you could convince Trudy to join us, some of the folks in town might decide to help out as well.

She gestured outside to the front porch. Six turned to follow her gaze. “I know Easy Pete’s got a stock of dynamite somewhere, and Chet just got a shipment of leather armor we could borrow. Talk to them as well. Finally, there’s a good chance we’ll all end up with extra holes in us, so if Doc Mitchell could cough up some extra stimpacks, that’d be great.”

Courier Six nodded, taking every word Sunny said into consideration. She’d start with Trudy first, then Doc Mitchell, then the other two. Trudy and Mitchell were priority. “Okay, any idea on how I could convince Trudy to join us?” 

“A silver tongue would help. Convincing Trudy that we had a good plan to win the fight would also help.”

They didn’t really have a plan, Six considered. She managed to get the jump on Cobb when she killed him, but that definitely wouldn’t work for the others. They’d be looking for a fight. Fuck it. “All right, Sunny. I appreciate the help.”

Sunny held out her right hand in front of the courier. Six took it and shook it heartily. “I’ll be waiting,” Sunny Smiles whispered. 

Six mentally wondered if Sunny believed they’d actually win. She knew they’d win, because her journey wasn’t going to come to an end thanks to some convicts with explosives.

The two parted ways - Sunny exited the saloon, while Six rambled on over to the bar. There she saw Trudy still trying to tinker with the broken radio. Before Six could say anything to her, Trudy spoke without even looking over.

“So, you’re plannin’ on taking on Joe Cobb’s gang. It’s a big risk, but I suppose you have to do what you think is right.”

Six leaned over the bar, her forearms keeping her propped up. She casually tucked a bit of hair back behind her right ear and nodded more than once. “Yep, and you should help me take down the powder gang. Bullets, explosions, lots of fun.” 

Trudy scoffed, and Six hinted a bit of amusement in it. “I was plannin’ on sittin’ this one out,” Trudy laughed as she turned around, “but for some reason, I can’t help but like you. I’m with you. Let me have a word with a few other folks and I’ll see if I can’t round up some more members for this militia you’re creatin’. While everyone does own a gun, we could stand to be a little better equipped. The general store probably has what we need in stock.”

“Then I’ll head there,” Six knocked her knuckles on the wood counter. She rose up and idly laid a hand down by her handgun. “I’ll be back when I know more.”

“Take care now,” Trudy left her with, before she went back to her bartending.

The general store was just right next door, thankfully. Six was barely out in the Mojave heat before being blasted by the ceiling fans the shop owner kept running all the time. The shop owner was sorting through some assorted ammunition boxes that looked like they’d been caked in dirt. 

“You lookin’ to buy some supplies?” The man asked, now fully focused on a potential customer.

“I need supplies to fight the Powder Gangers. Trudy said I should come to you.”

The man begrudgingly folded his arms over his chest. “Now just hold on. I never voted to take on the Powder Gangers. That’s a thousand cap investment you’re talking about!’

Six rolled her eyes and scoffed. She pointed to the drying blood on her suit. “Go ahead, let them take over the town, then. I’m sure your business will be much better off.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached down beside him and lifted up an oddly packed suit of leather armor. “Fine, you’ve made your point,” He mumbled as he tossed the armor over to her. Six fumbled for a second, underestimating the weight of the armor. “I can provide people with leather armor and extra ammo. I sure hope it’s all worth it.” His demeanor visibly changed as he shifted back towards the store room in the back. “And, uh, I’ll be guarding the store while all this is going on. I have to put my business first, you understand.”

“Oh, I get it, pal. Feel free to take a nice, comfy nap too, while you’re at it,” Six said with another eye roll. So far, most of the people of Goodsprings hadn’t made too good of an impression on her. Most seemed nothing more than lazy farm folk.

There were a few good people, though.

Six made her way out of the shanty store and back up the dreadful road that always seemed to break down with every step she took. She had to go up it to get to Doc Mitchell’s place, though, since it literally cut the town in half.

Back at Doc Mitchell’s house, she found the old doctor sat in the same chair he interviewed her in. He had some book that Six couldn’t read the name of in his hands. “Welcome back,” He welcomed her in with. “I had hoped you wouldn’t need to come see me again so soon. What can I do for you.”

Six ran a hand through her hair and sighed, opting to stand behind the couch, instead of where she sat last time. “Listen, Doc’, the town is going to be attacked by bandits. Is there anything you can do to help?”

 

Doc Mitchell slowly shut his book, shook his head, and came to a stand. “Seems like wherever I go it’s always the same. Folks just never leave each other alone. I’m not much good in a fight, with my bum leg. And my supplies are scarce, but you can have whatever I can spare.” He pointed to a hallway behind Six.

Six gave the man a thankful nod and turned around, going to where he showed her. There was a small shelf with a medical crate on it. Inside, she found a trio of stimpacks, all of which she decided to take for herself. 

After all, who were these people to her? She valued her well-being over anyone else’s.

Six also noted a bathroom behind her. Hoping to put the armor the shopkeeper gave her to good use, she stepped inside and locked the door behind her. What surprised her the most was the bathtub that actually looked like it might still work. What she wouldn’t give for the opportunity to soak for a while. 

Six stripped herself of any random items on her person - the gun belt, her canteen, the backpack, and even the boots that Doc Mitchell had given her, all so she could easily remove the vault suit that still was a bit too small on her. She noticed some areas of her body were red, probably from the tightness of the suit. Now dressed only in her undergarments, Six opened up the package that held the armor in it and quickly removed it. The first item to go on her were the pants - pants that felt much more comfortable than the vault suit. There were small knee pads that came with it that Six tied into place, as well. She tied her gun belt on soon after, opting to replace the 9mm with the .357 magnum she acquired before. The 9mm would stay in her backpack for now.

The padded leather jacket was thrown over her torso and tightened into place. She noticed that most of the left sleeve was missing, which left parts of her arm exposed. It probably didn’t matter that much, though.

After all was said and done, with her boots tied back on, her machete secured at her left side, the backpack over her shoulders, and the Pip-Boy on her left wrist, Six exited the bathroom. For keepsake, she did leave the vault suit in her pack. Maybe she could pawn it off for some ammunition down the road. 

She left Doc Mitchell’s house and headed back up the road to where she last saw Ringo - the gas station. The sun started to go down, and the Mojave desert slowly began cooling off minute by minute. 

“So, what’s going on?” Ringo immediately asked her upon her entry. He’d been looking out the window since Six left, waiting for the Powder Gangers to show up at any moment. “Did Sunny agree to help us.”

“Sunny’s with us.”

“Well, I guess that means we’re ready to go. Unless you think there’s something else you can do?”

Six remembered Sunny mentioned something about Easy Pete, but she couldn’t remember who that was, and decided they’d probably be fine without it. “Nope. Let’s do this.”

Ringo unholstered his handgun with a nod. “All right, I’m ready. I hope-”

The door to the gas station burst open. Ringo immediately pointed his handgun, with Six doing the same not long after him. They both were ready to fire, until they saw it was Sunny Smiles urgently clutching her rifle. “Time to look alive,” She proclaimed, holding the door open for the two. “The Powder Gangers are here to play.” 

“How many are there?” Six questioned as she walked out. She looked down at the horizon with her revolver held in her hand.

“At least six. They look pretty mean,” Sunny answered.

Damn. Maybe I should have grabbed that dynamite.

“Let’s go,” Six ordered.

Sunny jogged forward to grab Six by the shoulder. She spun her around so they could face each other. “I’ll be set up by the store. Let’s hope that the gang doesn’t manage to make it that far.”

Ringo went ahead and caught up with the small group of farmsmen that pooled together. Sunny and Six had fallen behind.

“Stay safe, Sunny.”

Sunny - noticeably without a smile on her face - blew a puff of air out of her nostrils. “You too.”

Six ran to meet up with the rest of the group as the gunshots started to ring out. She immediately saw one man fall to the ground clutching his chest - before the blood pooled under him and he stopped moving. The town started to return fire on the gang. Small arms fire littered the hills with a collective thunderous roar.

Six took cover behind a small rock formation that cut off the gang’s path to the general store and Doc Mitchell’s house. She briefly leaned out to take a shot at one of the gang members, which whizzed right by him and hit the dirt not too far behind him. He turned to fire at her - just barely missing and hitting the rock. Chunks of her cover flew into her face.

Two of the Powder Gangers weren’t even armed with firearms. They held different melee weapons each - one held a meat cleaver, the other ran up with a baseball bat. The one with the bat charged Six, but was gunned down by someone next to her. She couldn’t tell who got the killing blow.

She peeked out again and fired at the same member as before, this time hitting him in the side of his chest. She saw the blood burst from what looked like his left rib cage, and watched him fall to the ground.

Her back was turned away - and she hadn’t expected to get run up on, but the man with the meat cleaver came up behind her and slashed against her exposed left arm. Blood oozed from where he hit her. Six spun around and rapid fired three rounds out, two slammed into his upper torso, while the third hit into his right shoulder. He collapsed down onto her, his body lifeless.

The shooting came to a slow halt soon after that. Most of the sound that occupied the area now was a woman crying, followed by the occasional scream of pain.

As Six shoved the man’s body off of her and stood up, she saw the devastation from the fight. Three of the townspeople had been killed in the fight, three people she didn’t recognize. One man had been shot in the face with a shotgun. His head didn’t even look like a head anymore.

Some people had made it out with minor damage, Six included, but most weren’t so lucky. Doc Mitchell was looking over a woman whose left hand had been half shot off. She saw Trudy, though, looking over someone who she couldn’t see the face of. Six got up and made her way over, hoping to offer some sort of medical assistance with the stimpacks she planned to save for herself.

When she got closer, she saw that mess fit of cherry red hair that belonged to Sunny Smiles, and she didn’t look too good. A bullet caught her in the stomach, gushing blood out of a sensitive area. Six could hear Sunny crying in pain, holding her hands against her stomach. Cheyenne whimpered and cried, and laid down next to Sunny.

Six moved Sunny’s hands away and instead put her own there, applying pressure to where the bullet hit her.

“Doc’! Doc Mitchell!” Six exclaimed. She could hear Sunny’s breathing start to become lighter, raspier. Doc Mitchell ran up not long after she called and knelt down next to Sunny. 

“Okay, hun’, I need you to just keep breathin’, all right? I’m gonna’ fix you right up.”

Sunny desperately looked around at everyone, her eyes swelling up out of fear. Doc Mitchell moved Six’s hands away and began to work his magic on her injuries.

Six took Sunny’s right hand into her own, clutching it tightly as her other hand ran through Sunny’s hair. Sunny’s own blood smeared against her forehead, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes locked with Six’s when the tears began to stream down. Six didn’t need to look down at Doc Mitchell’s work; she knew what was happening. Sunny knew it, too, because she laid her hand down on Cheyenne’s head.

“I - I’m real sorry, Sunny,” Trudy scrambled. Even she herself didn’t look like she could hold it in much longer. She knelt down as Sunny’s feet and held on to her ankles, hoping to give her one last moment of comfort.

To his credit, Doc Mitchell continued to work. He wasn’t deterred by what everyone else had to say.

It didn’t matter, though, as Sunny eventually shut her eyes. The grip on Six’s hand loosened and fell limp, as did the rest of her body. Six - not sure what to feel - ultimately decided to lay Sunny’s hand down on her chest, and gave her forehead a small peck as Sunny faded away. “Thank you,” Six mumbled as she pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Fuck this place.

Six cleared away the collecting moisture in her throat and eventually made her way down the road. She didn’t want to look at any more dead bodies for the time being, and decided to hit the road. The cut on her arm would be fine - she just wanted to get the fuck out of Goodsprings.

Before she could fully leave, Ringo ran up to her. “Hey!” He called out, forcing Six to turn around. “Listen - I owe you a huge favor for this. Here - these are technically Crimson Caravan funds, but I know they’ll understand once I explain everything.”

Six audibly exhaled out of her nose. She really didn’t care for the money at this point, but took it regardless. “Yeah,” She muttered, tucking the bag of caps away in her backpack. 

“I’ll stick around for a bit longer, but I’ll be gone in a few days. If you ever visit New Vegas, look me up at the Crimson Caravan camp,” Ringo let her go with. He spun around and ran back to help the wounded.

Primm was the next destination. She saw it off to the South - or, rather, she saw what was left of it. It didn’t look like a far walk, so that’s where she’d going. Those bastards that put her in this town in the first place were going to pay.

Hopefully no one else had to die along the way. No one else aside from those fuckin’ Powder Gangers.


	4. Primm: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six makes a quick stop before leaving Goodsprings. After which, she finds herself in a peculiar situation on the way to Primm. God only knew what Primm held in store for her.

Primm might have been where she planned on going, but Six decided to back track slightly. As she started to exit Goodsprings, she saw a hill to the North that overlooked the entire town. As far as she could remember, that’s where those men took her to die. Maybe it was worth a little looksee.

Unfortunately, going up the hill meant she had to listen to the people of Goodsprings deal with their wounded. Some were still crying over their dead, some didn’t make any sound at all, and the rest of them gathered around to deal with the bodies of the Powder Gangers. They piled them up and threw them into a mass grave some men had been working on. It was maybe a few feet deep - Six knew they weren’t going to go all out in burying the men that killed their friends. She didn’t blame them, either.

When Six came to the top of the hill, the first thing she noticed wasn’t anything on the hill at all. No, it was the massive collective glow of the city that was New Vegas. Courier Six hadn’t ever been into Vegas itself - she’d been around it, but never let in. Too rich for her blood.

Putting her attention back on to where she was standing, Six immediately saw a dirt pile and a shallow grave illuminated by a lantern on the ground. A disgusting creature - a buzzard, they were called - flew off as Six approached the grave. It was hard to imagine that only a few days ago she was buried in it. There was practically no show of her being there. That damn robot did a good job of getting her out of there. 

_Motherfuckers. I didn’t do shit to them. Little prick in the suit’s going to be the one that gets the worst of it._

It wasn’t worth getting riled up for. She still had other things she needed to focus on. 

Six scuffed dirt into the grave and mumbled to herself - something incoherent under her breath. She turned around, having enough of looking at where she nearly laid forever. Something caught her eye - the lantern illuminated light off the glass of a small object. Six hadn’t ever seen something like it - on approach, it seemed to look circular… small enough to fit in her palm, but big enough that it couldn’t be tucked in her pocket. Oddly enough, the object had some sort of Old World town modeled inside it.

It looked almost like… Goodsprings? Like an entire miniature Goodsprings, trapped under a layer of white dust.

_Huh. Guess I’ll keep this._

Six tucked it away in her pack, having more than enough room to fit this mysterious object. She felt like there was just something she was forgetting, something -

_Oh, damn it. Reload!_

She unholstered her revolver and spun the cylinder out. She had only one round left in it. Good thing there weren’t more of them - these revolvers weren’t quick to reload. She started to thumb the rounds in one by one, putting five back in the weapon. Now she had only 2 rounds on spare. Eventually, she’d have to stop for more. But not at Goodsprings. They probably had other things to deal with.

The mailwoman marched back down the hill and got back onto the road. Some of the townspeople gave her a few angered glances - no doubt they blamed her for the aggression of the Powder Gangers. Ultimately, Ringo was right - gunning down Joe Cobb only caused them to become more hostile. There might have been an opportunity for peace that she dismissed out the window.

She ignored them. There’s no point in debating what could have been.

With Goodsprings to her rear, Six continued down the road towards Primm - she could just barely make out the silhouette of the small community. There was some sort of rail system that was built behind the biggest building in the town - Six couldn’t see entirely what it was. The Mojave night sky did wonders to hide something. Most raiders - a term used to describe the lowest of the low the wasteland had to offer - did their wrong doings at night. It was the one time of day where the Mojave went quiet.

Six was so entwined in her thoughts that she didn’t hear someone walking up on her.

“Hello? Can you help me?” The suspicious man called out.

Nearly shitting herself, Six drew her revolver out and pointed it at the man’s chest. She took a few steps back. “Motherfucker - what do you want? Don’t fuckin’ sneak up on a person like that.”

“Woah - alright! Sorry, I just thought you might help me..”

“Sorry, got my own problems,” Six shot him down with. She might have considered helping him if he hadn’t run up on her like that, but he was too suspicious to warrant her help.

The man shot his hands up, showing that he wasn’t a real threat to her. “Wait! I could pay you!”

_Damn it… I need caps to buy ammo. All right._

Without lowering her revolver, Six looked the man in the eyes. “Fifty caps or I walk,” She demanded, deciding fifty was probably enough to buy an assorted dozen of .357 rounds.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, just hurry!” The man pleaded, clasping his hands together desperately. 

“What’s wrong?” Courier Six half-heartedly inquired, finally coming to slide her weapon back in its respective hip holster.

The man turned and pointed to a small ridge line behind the pair. The moonlight just barely illuminated the mountain path behind a broken down steel radio tower. “My girl is trapped by geckos on the ridge and I can’t get to her; she’s going to die!”

Six rolled her eyes. “Okay,” She mumbled beneath her breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The man’s eyes lit up - but Six wondered if it was for the right reason. He didn’t seem like a man in love to her. “You will? Thank you for helping me… please hurry.”

Six scooted him and started moving towards where he pointed out. Fifty caps didn’t really seem like a whole lot to her anymore. Not if she was going to be fighting geckos. Those slippery bastards bit hard - some even spit fire out of their mouths. If these were some of those kinds, she definitely wasn’t going to get involved.

Maybe it was better that she didn’t use up the last of her ammunition, Six wondered. She did have that machete still - so maybe it could do some work against these creatures.

The further she got up the hill, Six spotted what looked to be a gecko cub. The creature was small - not developed at all. That meant its teeth probably hadn’t come in fully. This one definitely could go down with a few swings of her machete.

After unsheathing the weapon, Six ran up on the gecko. She startled it - it opened its mouth and hissed at her. She swung the blade down at the gecko slicing off its right hand in one go. It cried out in pain - the mother was no doubt on the way now. She had to finish it off now, so she took the machete up and hacked it down on the creature’s skull, piercing through its bone and killing it.

She lodged her boot against its chest and pulled, dislodging her weapon from its brain. As she suspected, the mother came running up, furious that her cub was murdered by some strange creature. The gecko mother flared her nostrils, stretched her claws and howled. Six knew what that meant - backup was on the way.

Two other little cubs came running up behind her, with another adult gecko following behind them. 

“Oh, fuck,” Six cursed. Her hand shakily went down to her holster and drew out her magnum, raising it up. She fired off one shot - a round that missed its target and slammed into the dirt next to the family. 

They charged in unison, running right at the courier with fury in their eyes. As she cocked back the hammer on her revolver, a fury of small arms fire blasted behind her, lighting up the family of geckos and filling their bodies full of lead. One by one they all fell down, until the group was no longer moving. The bullets were accurate - too accurate for a normal person to have fired them.

Six turned around with her revolver still raised, trying to find her new target. Once she fully came about, her iron sights laid on the mysterious robot that Doc Mitchell named Victor. He strolled on up to her casually, swerving in the dirt beneath him. His main monitor showed the icon of a man with a bandana around his neck, a ten-gallon hat on his head, and a cigarette in his mouth.

“You need’a be careful, it’s dangerous out here!” His speakers blared out in a surprisingly passing Californian accent.

Six spun the cylinder of her revolver out and pushed the used cartridge out. The empty space was now filled with her last .357 round on spare. “I can take care of myself. How did you even know I was in trouble?”

“Heck, I can smell trouble from a mile away,” The robot cowboy laughed out.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“See that you do.”

Six rose up an eyebrow, wondering what Victor meant by that. “Are you following me?”

“I saved your life so I kinda’ feel responsible for you is all.”

Six scoffed. By some unholy coincidence, the thing that saved her life decided to go and follow her to the end of the wasteland. “Well, don’t,” Six spat out, turning back to go further up the ridge.

Victor continued to talk - she could hear him following her. “Heh, I like you, friend. Have I mentioned that?” His tire broke clumps of dirt beneath him, occasionally spitting out rocks behind him.

“Look - what do you want from me?” Six spun around to face Victor again, already tired of interacting with him.

“Just watchin’ over you is all,” Victor repeated, still following after her.

The man from before - the man who offered to pay her for helping him out - came running up. He had taken his 9mm handgun out of its holster and didn’t look like he was coming to pay her. Victor’s servos spun him around to face the incoming person.

“Sorry I tricked you,” He began mischievously, “but thanks for clearing out those geckos. Now I can get to that stash up there… after I deal with you.”

The man barely even had time to raise his weapon up before Victor’s right limb launched upward. He opened his claws up and unloaded another fury of 9mm rounds into his chest, tearing up his chest cavity. The man flung back and hit the ground hard, spitting blood out from the newly found hole carved out of his torso.

“Holy fuck!” Six cried out, taking a few steps back from Victor. The way he gunned that man down so quickly immediately caused her tension with the robot to spike.

Victor turned to Six and repeated himself. “Like I said… you should be careful out here.” On that note, Victor started to traverse down the ridge line and off into the darkness of the night, escaping from Six’s line of sight.

_What the fuck?_

She never even learned the now-corpse’s name. She bent down next to him and looted through a satchel he kept on his side. In it, she found a few spare 9mm magazines and about 27 caps. 

_Fucker didn’t even have fifty caps on him. Good riddance, scumbag._

She also decided to take his handgun. He definitely wasn’t going to need it anymore. 

_All right, enough screwing around. Let’s get to Primm._

Six continued her journey after getting too distracted. No doubt the man that shot her was probably all the way to the Strip by now. She walked down the ridge line and finally connected back with the main road. She blasted her way through a few gecko cubs that were fighting with a radroach. Six decided to switch out her .357 magnum with a 9mm handgun Doc Mitchell gave her. While it didn’t pack as much of a punch, it held more rounds in a magazine, and the ammunition was also much easier to come by.

An NCR Trooper - NCR standing for the New California Republic - came running up to Six before she got too close to Primm. “Hey, where the hell do you think you’re goin’?!” He held up an open hand to let her know she had to stop. “Primm is off-limits.”

“What?” Six had no idea why Primm would’ve been off-limits. The residents never really seemed to be hostile towards any of their neighbors. What did the NCR have to do with Primm? “What’s going on in Primm?”

“Some convicts from the prison up the road have taken over the town. Everyone inside is either dead or in hiding.” The trooper was monotone, like he really didn’t give a fuck about what happened to the people inside. “What’s more, there are two tribes of raiders that are causing trouble in this area as well. You’d be safer heading back up to Goodsprings.”

“Shouldn’t you be protecting the town or something?” Six took a step closer to the man, almost not believing that the NCR were here and not actively doing something about the situation.

“We’d love to,” He put like he was reading off notes on a script, “but they don’t fall under NCR jurisdiction. Even if they did we’re in no shape to protect them. “

“And why can’t you protect them?”

“We don’t have the equipment to take out the convict, and even if we did we’d need some extra hands for backup. You should talk to Lieutenant Hayes. He’s in a tent down the road. Just stay on the west side of the overpass if you don’t want to get shot.”

The trooper retreated back towards his post. Six took that as her cue to head into the town, which she did just as such. She marched past a small lookout station and got a clear view of the rubble that was Primm. It didn’t surprise her - nearly every down around looked just as bad, some even worse.

Coming up on the tent, Six saw another trooper stood next to a burning barrel, warming his hands up. Poor man probably had to sit out in these conditions all day. 

Six lifted the a metal door connecting the interior of the tent with the outside world. Inside the tent were two NCR soldiers - one woman with a rifle slung over her shoulders, and a man with a green beret on top of his head. They were both looking down at a map on the wall, studying key aspects marked down around the surrounding area.

“Lieutenant Hayes?” Six asked, approaching the man with the beret.

“That’s me, Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic army, 5th Battalion, 1st Company. What’s your business?” The man turned around and faced Six, offering out his right hand. Six took it carefully and shook it.

“What’s the New California Republic doing out here?”

“We were sent out to hold back the tide of convicts from the correctional facility. As you can probably tell, we aren’t exactly doing the kind of job we could be doing.”

“What’s the problem with your mission? Why can’t you help Primm out?”

Lieutenant Hayes scoffed with a smirk. “The mission isn’t the problem. The problem is with supplies. The convicts are better armed and organized than our intel initially suggested. I’m trying to get some reinforcements, maybe some guns with some firepower, but… shit… things are just going slow.”

“Do you have any information on the convicts?” Six asked, leaning her forearms down on the table. 

“Not much. They’ve taken to calling themselves the Powder Gangers. Mostly because they’ve taken to using explosives meant to clear boulders as weapons. They got organized faster than I would have thought, most of them at least. Thankfully the small group in town here seem to have split off from the main force, so they aren’t getting anything in the way of support.”

“All right, Lieutenant… I guess that’s all I had to ask. I can see if maybe I can round up some of the townspeople,” Six thought over. A small militia might be able to take the town back - but that wasn’t the whole reason she was doing this. There might be a chance that the people that shot her in the head were ultimately captured by the convicts. It was worth checking..

“Good luck, ma’am,” Lieutenant Hayes let her leave with.

Six left the tent and found herself back in the Mojave night. The cold air hit her cheeks like small icy pieces blowing against her. She remembered that the trooper said to stay on the west side of the overpass - but she had to get over to the other side. When she got to the overpass, Six saw the red lights of three fragmentation mines covering the way across. Six balanced herself on the edge and carefully inched her way across the bridge. One wrong step and she’d land face first on three hundred year old concrete.

Each step she took was careful and meticulous. Luckily, it wasn’t that long of a walk - and she was on the other side fairly soon. Six got down into a low crouch and approached an old blown up… thing. She couldn’t remember the name of the debris labeled ‘Corvega’. Six unholstered her 9mm handgun and hit the wall of a building named the ‘Vikki & Vance Casino’. 

She found one convict with his foot up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything in general - so Six was able to lift up her handgun, point it at the man’s head fired. The round blew through the man’s right ear and exited out his left temple - he immediately fell to the ground, lifeless. 

One more ran up soon after, firing from around the corner. Six took cover behind the brick and mortar and let the man recklessly push up on her. He continuously fired and fired - until his weapon clicked. Once he ejected the magazine out, Six took the opportunity to peak around and fire. 4 rounds blasted out of her weapon and created 4 new holes in the man’s torso. He fell to the ground next to his friend, blood pooling under his body. He coughed blood up and choked on it. His lungs were filling up with blood, making him unable to breathe - quite actually, the convict was drowning from his own blood.

Six did him a favor and shot him in the forehead. Drowning is a rough way to go.

On her way in, Six noticed a dead farmhand that looked somewhat familiar to her. She definitely didn’t kill him - which made her want to approach and investigate. She took her hand to his chin and lifted his head. Her mouth downturned into a frown when she recognized who it was.

“Oh, Daniel… I’m sorry this happened to you,” Six mumbled. Daniel Wyand was another Mojave Express courier that she had run into on more than one occasion.. He was tasked to deliver something similar to her to the Strip, but it seems what happened to her happened to him, too.

_I hope the same thing didn’t happen to the rest of them.._

Six lowered his head and pressed a small kiss to the top of his head. It always hurt to see friends go - especially when friends weren’t easy to come by.

She opened up the door next to where Daniel died - one of the other Mojave Express outposts, it seemed. When she entered the building, she noticed a damaged Eyebot laid out on the front counter. Six ran a hand across the front metal grille and shook her head. Maybe she could try and fix it up before she left.

Luckily for her, there were small pieces of assorted scrap next to where the Eyebot laid. Six opened up the back panel on the robot and dug inside, seeing what the damage was. The robot had been shot with some high-caliber round. It tore through its insides and ripped multiple different servos in the poor guy.

Someone had clearly tried to patch it up before - probably Daniel - because some parts of it were already replaced. Six went in and did her best to replace the parts that had been damaged, but no doubt some pieces of the robot couldn’t be replaced.

Well, she at least had to try. Six round the emergency power switch on the robot and flicked it on - hoping that with the repairs she did, and with a stroke of divine intervention, it might turn on again.

The Eyebot shot up! It hovered in front of Six and seemed to look at her cautiously, curiously beeping. Six definitely didn’t speak Eyebot. The Eyebot turned itself and displayed a license plate on its side, showing off the letters ED-E. 

“Okay… ED-E. That’s your name?”

The Eyebot positively beeped.

“All right, ED-E, you want to come with me?”

ED-E beeped again and zoomed in close to her, then flew over to the door. It swung open when ED-E impacted against it.

“I guess let’s get to saving these people, ED-E.”


	5. Primm: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Courier finds trouble in Primm - and some answers. Answers that didn't make any sense to her, but answers nonetheless. Her newfound companion, ED-E, appears to be quite useful, too....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that are more visual, I'll start including screenshots relative to what's going on in the chapters. Warning: viewing these before reading might spoil (well, spoil in a game that's 9 years old now) events in the chapter. Some pictures might be important - some might just be reference photos for your viewing pleasure.
> 
> Courier Six after the Goodsprings gunfight: **https://imgur.com/XDPAigc**
> 
> Courier Six & ED-E inside the Bison Steve hotel: **https://imgur.com/9eAZ0qj** (this one was not dark in the actual screenshot. For some reason, uploading it makes it much darker, and trying to make it brighter w/ after effects makes it extremely pixulated, sorry)

Back outside, the duo crossed the street under the cover of darkness. The two convicts were guarding the entrance to the Casino, which meant there was definitely more of the bastards inside. Six pressed her ear to the front door and.... quirked an eyebrow. Much to her surprise, there was music playing inside, and the occasional stint of laughter. They didn’t sound like convicts on the run.

She pushed the door open and let ED-E go in first. Six took everything as a good sign, seeing as there wasn’t an immediate spout of gunfire. ED-E hovered back over to Six a few moments later; the barrel of his built-in laser blaster cool. He hadn’t fired it at anyone.

Six decided to go in for herself. Maybe she’d die - maybe this new robot companion of hers was specifically programmed to trick the occasional traveller into wandering into their death.

Dialogue slowed when she entered. Most of the people inside started to focus their attention on Six the moment she walked in. Well, almost everyone.

A dark-skinned old man approached her, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it was that brought you to Primm, youngster,” The old man began, pointing behind her. “But you might want to rethink your plans. Town’s gone to hell.”

Six’s head started to ache when she eyed the man. Memories tried to flood back to her - brief flashes of a life she could hardly remember pained her brain. She’d seen this man before. She knew that much, but she couldn’t remember when - or how.

“Who are you?” Six questioned, while she tried to regain her composure. 

“Johnson Nash is my name,” The man answered proudly. He folded his arms after he jerked a thumb behind him to a similarly old woman off in the distance. Six definitely hadn’t seen her before. “Husband to Rudy Nash. Lived in Primm goin’ on eight years now, thick ‘n thin. I’m a trader primarily, for what it’s worth with things like they are. I also run the local Mojave Express Outpost.”

Hearing the old words of Six’s previous profession, her ears perked up. “I’m a courier with the Mojave Express.” Whether or not she wanted to, Six holstered her handgun. If Johnson was truly who he said he was, maybe he could help her.

“Well, I don’t got any work right now, sorry to say,” Johnson defeatedly answered.

“No, I - I lost a package I was supposed to deliver.”

Johnson Nash’s head bopped up and down. With a small sigh out of his nose, he started to say, “I’ll tell you whatever I can. Do you have a delivery order you can show me.”

“Yes!” Six boomed, the feeling of getting some resolution in the foggy memories clouding her brain too exciting. She fell to a knee and unslung her pack. The ties that bound the top were neatly undone so that she could dig around inside. “What, uh - what can you tell me about this job?” Six asked as she handed up her delivery order. When Johnson took it, Six tied her pack again and came to a stand.

Johnson’s eyes squinted as he read the note, then went wide when he realized what he was looking at. “Oh,” He mumbled. “You’re talking about one of them packages. That job had strange written all over it. But we couldn’t turn down the caps.”

“Well, what was so strange about it?”

“That cowboy robot had us hire six couriers. Each was carrying something a little different. A pair of dice, a chess piece, that kind of stuff. Last word I had from the office, it looked like the payment had been received for the other five jobs. Guess it was just your chip that didn’t make it.” Six heard Johnson curse under his breath before he began his next rant. “First deadbeat we hired to do the job canceled. Hope a storm from the Divide skins him alive. Well, that’s where you came in.”

Six hadn’t been told about there being a previous courier before her. “He canceled? Why? You said yourself the caps was good.”

“Yeah, got this look when he saw you next down on the Courier list. His expression turned right around, asked me if your name was for real. I said, sure as lack a’ rain, you were still kickin’. Then he turned down the job, just like that. I asked if he was sure, it was good money. ‘No, let Courier Six carry the package’ - that’s what he said. Like the Mojave’d sort you out or somethin’. Then he just up and walked out.”

Six.. didn’t know what to say. Could that have been the man that shot her? No - the man that shot her wanted the package. Why would this other courier turn down the thing he wanted the most? “Do you know who he was? Where he went?” 

Johnson Nash shook his leathery head. “No idea. Sounds like you two had a history for him to act like that. And turn down the money, too. Hope he didn’t see any trouble in that package of yours. Maybe he thought your name was bad luck. Not for me to say.”

Six absentmindedly wandered over to one of the stools in front of a busted slots machine. She sat herself down in it and was finally hit with the realization that she hadn’t sat down since her first talk with that Trudy woman - hours ago. Her head ached, thumping from temple to temple. “The men that stole my package - one was in a checkered suit with some thugs. Did they pass this way?” 

Johnson was silent for a few seconds, using as most of his old brain as he could. “Well, now that you mention it, a few nights back one of the townies was out scavenging for supplies. He said he saw a fella’ with a daisy suit come through with some of them Great Khan misfits. They was talkin’ about a chip.”

Six brushed away the hair from her forehead to show Johnson the stitched up wound she had suffered. “One of those men shot me. I need to know the best way to get to them.” She let the hair fall back down, covering the scar she felt shame for. 

“Well for that your best bet is going to be talking to Deputy Beagle. Since they came to town he was keepin’ a good bit of notes on them, and he was slinkin’ around Bison Steve when your pretty-boy friend came through. He may have heard where they were going.”

Six hopped up from the stool and set both her feet on the ground. She unholstered her handgun and did an ammo count, then nodded to Johnson Nash. “All right. I’ll see if I can find him for y’all.” 

“Yep. Don’t go gettin’ yourself shot,” Johnson left her with.

Six waved ED-E onward and closed the door to the Vikki ‘n Vance Casino behind her. Now she was definitely in for it.

The pair crossed the street again, this time towards the hotel. She did the same as before: pushing the door open and letting ED-E go through. Once he was in, Six followed closely behind him, weapon raised in front of her. She kept herself at a low crouch to be as quiet as she could.

The moment she shut the door behind her, a single guard was patrolling the hall. Six hit the ground behind the reception desk, and ED-E flew off to hide behind it with her. The guard looked into the lobby, didn’t see anything, nodded to himself, then took a seat in a chair by the same desk the two hid behind. Six inched her way around, careful not to make any sudden and over-the-top moves. From where she peaked her head around the side, Six saw the guard cleaning an old Varmint rifle in his lap. His head was down, focused on the intricals of the weapon.

Six came around the side of the desk and slowly removed her bloodied machete from its sheath. Once the weapon was ready, she grew closer and closer to the man until he was within arms reach of her. The blade came up suddenly and hacked at the convict’s neck - blood gushing from where she struck. He tried to yell - tried to call for help, but the blood already filled his lungs.

This one she couldn’t help. He’d have to drown, Six knew.

She gathered up all the ammunition and supplies she could off of him as his body thrashed wildly, the last bits of his life dedicated to not wanting to die - but it was inevitable. His limbs slowed, his eyes drooped shut, and his head hit the ground. 

Better to keep moving. She sheathed the machete and poked her head around the corner, looking down the long hallway the guard originated from.

Two guards at the end, both sat there chatting with one another. Six knew that she and ED-E could take them down together if they shot at the same time, but it was all a matter of -

“Got a live one over here!” Someone called out.

Six looked to her left and saw a guard stood in the doorway with a tire iron in his hands. She didn’t even bother to check there first. The two guards at the end of the hall came running, as the one closest to her charged.

ED-E fired a bolt from his laser, striking the man in the chest. The laser round cut through his torso and back out of him, finally stopping at the wall behind him. Confused, the convict looked at the hole in his chest, then back up to ED-E - then ED-E fired another one into his stomach. This time, the convict fell to the ground, lifeless.

Both the guards finally met up with them - one was carrying a cleaver, the other equipped the same handgun Six had. The convict with the handgun started to immediately fire on ED-E, the light arms fire pinging off of his armor. 

Six raised her weapon and fired into the man with the cleaver. Since he was charging at her, his body fell in the direction of her, landing right on top of her with the kitchen tool flung off to the side. She didn’t pay attention to how many bullets she fired - but she shoved the corpse off of her and started to fire at the other man now.

The last convict had been so distracted on ED-E that he didn’t even bother with Six. Multiple bullets struck his body - he felt them, but also didn’t. Like the other man before, he looked down at the blood pooling from the new holes in his body, but collapsed on his own. Adrenaline was a different drug. Or maybe he was too high on Med-X, a morphine like substance that did essentially the same as morphine, but was much more addictive.

The convicts around them were dead. They could advance through the hotel. Six thought it smart to reload her weapon, since she really had no idea how many bullets she went through in that last engagement. Something like that wasn’t smart to do, mainly because bullets were too hard to come by in the Wasteland, and all the wrong people had more than her.

The further the two got down the hallway, the more Six could hear a group discussing something. They sounded angry, one was going on about how they should charge whoever the fuck decided to come attack them, while the others were saying how they should let the attackers come to them. ED-E went ahead without Six, much to Six’s dismay - she would have greatly preferred to attack with him.

As Six was approaching, she heard someone call ED-E out, then she heard a laser bolt fire - no doubt from ED-E, then… an explosion. Loud enough to rock the whole hotel. She turned the corner to see smoke, bits of fire, and blood smearing the walls around them. Limbs were thrown around, but without them, it was almost impossible to tell that they had been human once. ED-E hovered to her and positively beeped. Six’s eyes were wide, looking at his mess cautiously. She spotted a discarded flamer slung into the wall in front of her. No doubt that was… what caused this.

“God help me!” Six heard a man call out from the next room over. Her gun raised up and ED-E went on alert. Together, they approached the next room carefully, until they saw a man with a deputy’s badge pinned to his shirt. His hands and legs were also bound together, preventing him from going anywhere. No doubt, this was that Deputy Beagle Johnson Nash told her about.

Six looked down the hallway on the left, before holstering her handgun again. Beagle was no threat to her tied up.

“I don’t suppose you came here to rescue me? I’d cross my fingers, but my hands are numb.”

“You must be Deputy Beagle,” Six said, as she leaned her rear against the counter behind her. She crossed her arms and looked him over.

“Why, yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m in a bit of a predicament here. I’d be most appreciative if you’d set me free.”

“I hear you may have information on some Khans that came through here with a guy in a checkered suit.”

“My good lady,” Beagle began, stating as if he had some card to play against her. “I believe I may have information that would prove useful. If you would just untie my hands, I’d be more than happy to share what information with you.”

“No, no. You can tell me or you can rot in here,” Six shot him down with. She didn’t go all this way just to get scammed by some hostage.

Beagle hesitated. He knew that he was in no position to argue. “Well, you look to be the trustworthy sort,” He said, not really believing that. Six didn’t seem to care about his opinion. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know. I overheard them saying that they are on their way to Novac. If you want to follow them, I strongly suggest you take the road through Nipton. There are a lot of dangerous things out in the desert, and you won’t have me with you to protect you, as I need to stay here and keep Primm safe.”

Six withheld her laughter there at the end. She stuck to simply rolling her eyes. “Right. Yeah, all right, Beagle. I’ll set you free. But you better not be lyin’ to me, otherwise I’ll come back here an’ show you how some parts of California deals with liars.”

“Oh that’s just marvelous. I think I’ll be making my way outside now. The air’s a little close in here.”

“Yeah, go on now. I reckon I got them all on my way in. Try not to get yourself captured again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Beagle left her with.

Six turned to ED-E when Beagle finally went around the corner. “All right, ED-E. I saw we keep on moving to Novac. Bastards have already got a few days lead on us. You know the way to Novac Beagle was talkin’ about?”

ED-E beeped rapidly, hovering up and down positively.

“All right, simmer down, now. I’ll follow you.”

Beagle was alright out of the building by the time ED-E and Six made their way back into the hallway. No doubt he ran as fast as he could. Beagle struck Six as a coward putting on the persona of a mighty sheriff come to save the day. He gave the two a wave goodbye - Six didn’t mind, she was glad he didn’t want to talk to her. She needed to get moving, so that’s what she did. With ED-E right behind her - or, rather, above her - they took the road that went south out of Primm.

ED-E took the lead, Six followed closely behind. By now, the sun had started to come up, and the Mojave heat started to creep steadily back in. The blood red sky began to illuminate off to the east, coloring the remaining night sky. 

“ED-E?” Six spoke up with when they left the city limits. 

ED-E spun around to face her, beeping questioningly. At least, that’s what it sounded like to her.

“You don’t got to follow me if you don’t want to.” Six came to a slow stop next to ED-E. “Truth be told, I’m probably headin’ towards my own death. You heard me mention I got shot?” Six brushed away the hair hiding her gunshot wound. ED-E buzzed lowly. “They’ll do it again if they get the chance. An’ they’ll shoot you, too, if you’re with me. So - you can go. It ain’t a big deal to me.”

ED-E hovered above her, but lowered himself down so he could be level with her head. He got closer and, well, almost nuzzled against her. ED-E beeped again; Six heard a sadder tone than before. He turned to show her his own gunshot wound - a hole in his side that exposed his inner wiring. Then ED-E rose up, positioned himself upright and used the barrel of his laser to tap next to Six’s wound.

Six understood what he was trying to imply. It wouldn’t be easy to manage communication with a robot that could only speak in beeps and tones, but maybe she could make do. She tried to hide a smile that tugged at her lips, ultimately failing - she could appreciate the eyebot’s sense of companionship. “Hah, yeah… I guess you ‘n I aren’t all too different, are we?”

ED-E beeped. His tone was happy; he was happy that she understood the gesture he made.

“All right, then, ED-E. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you weren’t here to serve me or nothing.” Six lifted a hand up to knock her knuckles against ED-E hard metal coating. “You ‘n I are a team, now. Best we stay on the same page.”

ED-E pointed himself up and down - nodding, it looked like. Six couldn’t help but smile again.

“Well, let’s get goin’, then.”


	6. Nipton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nipton's seen better days. After a brief encounter on the road, Six finds something... evil in the Mojave. Something that showed her things were about to come crashing down. She had to find help, or a lot more people are going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courier Six and ED-E find the ruins of Nipton: https://imgur.com/y188r3Y
> 
> Courier Six and Rose of Sharon Cassidy speak at the Mojave Outpost: https://imgur.com/LvDhspL

The road to Nipton was broken down, busted - as was every road in the Wasteland. The hunks of metal that explode if you shoot them too many times used to be things people in the Old World would take to from place to place, instead of walking everywhere.

Six was envious of that. Who wouldn’t be? Her job was to go from place to place. Having something that would make things faster would be worth every cap she could muster - and then some. Not that it mattered thinking about. Like she said, the roads were too damaged to walk on, let alone take one of those machines. 

Dawn was now fully on the horizon. Six could see things further than fifty yards in front of her. It was a mistake to go out at night, but she had no choice. The Great Khans were already days ahead of her. Johnson Nash told her that the other five deliveries had been made. Six’s - the sixth one - wasn’t. He’d also told her that someone was set to deliver it before her, but jumped ship before the packages went out. Someone set her up. Some bastard wants her dead, and they very nearly got their wish.

Things just didn’t make sense to her, and it wasn’t because she’s missing pieces of her brain. As far as she knew, Six hadn’t done anyone wrong. She’d kept her nose clean of the politics of the Wasteland, even when the New California Republic marched its way east. Even Caesar’s Legion - a group dedicated to enforcing the ways of some Old World civilization that died out before the bombs were even created, a faction that washes over small tribes and formed one cohesive unit - marched west to meet the Republic at the Dam. She had no reason to be hated by either one of them.

Not even the Great Khans were her enemies. They weren’t good people by any means, but not many were anymore. They’d sometimes offer the Mojave Express caps to run cashes of drugs for them - the Express turned them down each time, stating that the backlash from other employers wasn’t worth the pocket change the Khans could offer.

Even still, that was no reason to murder a courier. Most folks understand the importance of the job. Only the lowlifes of the Wasteland would rob a courier - raiders, fiends, ghouls that finally snapped. Whatever that package was… she feared it was something far worse than a simple gambling chip.

Six was brutally snapped out of her thoughts by gunfire - not at her, but definitely near her. ED-E’s external speakers played some sort of tune, sounding similar to an old western tune. He went on alert.

“Did - did you just play music?” Six smirked. Seeing him get ready for action was adorable. ED-E positively hummed and turned towards the action. Six saw it going down off on the horizon - a man and a woman, shooting at each other. The girl had half a head of dark purple hair, odd for someone out this way. She looked like a raider. The man - well, Six didn’t get to see much of the man, because as she approached the pair to investigate, the woman fired her 9mm handgun into his face multiple times. His head was nothing more than a bloody mush of brains and bone when she got there. 

The purple haired girl ran up. She sounded surprisingly calm, Six noted. “Did you see that? That guy was going to kill me!”

“What did he want?” Six’s hand drifted down to her own handgun, suspicious. The other woman turned around and took something off the man’s corpse, tucking it away before Six could see what it was. No doubt adding to her suspicions.

“He kept shouting about stars - or something. Does that make any sense to you?”

With a half-hearted shrug, Six shook her head. “No idea.”

“No reason it should, I suppose.” The woman pushed something down into her front chest pocket and spun around, looking over her shoulder as she kept talking. “I need to be going. Thank you aga-”

Six drew. Her gun went up and fired, blasting a hole through the girl’s skull and out her face. She collapsed to the ground, landing in the dust by the man she had killed.

ED-E’s sensors dimmed. He gave a low hum, looking at the girl Six had just murdered.

“ED-E,” Six began, holstering her weapon. She squatted down next to the dead girl and flipped her on her back, digging in to the pocket she tried to hide something in. “It’s a shitty wasteland out this way. You need to understand that. And in the Mojave-” Six withdrew a makeshift necklace of some sort, with nine bottlecaps looped around it. The bottlecaps were different, however - these had blue stars under the tops of them.

“You live or you die.” Six poked a finger against the girl’s bare shoulder. “I lived. She died. She had something I wanted, so I took it.” She tucked the necklace away into her pack and stood up, dusting off the leathery bottoms of her armor. “Now I’m sorry you saw that, but it’s better I have ‘em than she has ‘em.”

ED-E didn’t respond to her. She knew he was listening, but ED-E had more of a lost puppy feel to him than a heroic eyebot willing to put his metal life on the line. He needed to understand things like this.

“Come on. Nipton’s just up the road.”

From where they were, Six started to see Nipton for all it was worth. She’d taken notice of the smoke billowing off in the distance, but wrote it off as them simply burning junk - or bodies. But no, when she grew closer, she saw what was the true cause of all the smoke.

Nipton was burning. Buildings were burning, grass was burning, tires were burning. The heat was radiating against her dry skin already. Two flags were blowing in the wind, identical in markings. They both had a golden bull in the center, surrounded by an endless red sea. A simple design, one that belonged to only one group. Six knew what it meant.

The Legion had come to the Mojave. Nipton was their first stop.

A young man bounded up to her from the smoke. Except, he didn’t look to be in fear. Six raised her weapon on the man, but didn’t fire - maybe he knew what was going on.

“Yeeeaah!” The man screeched. He was ecstatic for someone that survived this mess. “Who won the lottery?! I DID!” The man looked eerily similar to a Powder Ganger member - the blue uniform was what gave him away. But a true Powder Ganger, however, would not have run up to her like that. The young man raised his arms into the sky and lifted his head up high. “Smell that air! Couldn’t ya’ just drink it in like booze?!” He laughed maniacally, his chest rising with each bellow.

“What the fuck? Are you feelin’ all right?” Six asked, careful not to lower her gun. No one in their right mind would act like this. He definitely wasn’t in a clear state.

The young man’s eyes went wide. His arms outstretched around him, like he was sinking in the Mojave sunlight. “Are you kidding me? Never felt better!”

“Are you a Powder Ganger?” Six’s index finger inched down to the trigger.

“Powder Ganger? What? I mean - yeah, I used to be, sure! But not no more! Powder Gang is small-time, man! I’m a winner! I won the motherfuckin’ lott-er-y!” He made sure to emphasize the word.

“Right.. I need to get goi-”

“Yeah, whatever, man! Bye!” The former Powder Ganger darted off, skipping down the road ED-E and Six just came up from.

The further Six went in to the town, the more she wished she hadn’t. Skeletons of the former Nipton inhabitants were strewn about in the streets, skulls smashed down to bits. When they came to the first intersection in town, Six took a left, and -

“What.. the fuck?” Six’s lungs fell short. She found herself unable to breathe at the sight. ED-E sadly beeped beside her.

Powder Gangers - if they’d even call themselves that anymore - were hung up to die on crosses. Some had been lucky enough to have their hands bound to the wood, others… others were nailed to it. All of them were crucified in the street; beaten, bloody, barely conscious. None of them looked at her. None of them even raised their heads. 

Down the street at what appeared to be an old school, Legion soldiers came marching down the steps. Some had their pet mongrels between their legs. All of them wore the armor of the Legion - padded gear that had been dyed black, with bright red rags beneath it. Some were equipped with machetes, some had spears, a few of them even had rifles in their hands. But the leader… the leader came right up to Six. A man wearing a wolf’s pelt over his head.

“Don’t worry,” He began, an almost mockingly smooth tone coming out of him. “I won’t have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates. It’s useful that you happened by.”

Six couldn’t speak. She was afraid that if she did, she’d puke in the middle of it. These weren’t soldiers… they were animals. Nothing about this was right.

“I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar’s Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across.”

“And what ‘lessons’ did you teach here?” Six shouted. There was a pure venom in her words - one that she didn’t mean to spout. She restrained herself further, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line.

The Legion spokesman raised his arms up, gesturing to the whole town. “Where to begin? That they are weak, and we are strong? This much was known already. But the depths of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson.”

“I-I’ve heard enough.” She wanted to get as far away from here as she could. As far away from these Legion bastards as she could.

“I think your eyes will see more than I could ever tell you. Take your time. Enjoy the sights.” Without a single gesture to his men, the Legionnaire strode off. As if in unison, his men followed behind him, forming a single line as they carved a path through Nipton.

Six stared as they left, eyes wide in fear. She looked to her side and pointed off to two statues to the south-west. “There,” She said to ED-E. “We need to get there. Republic should be there. They… need to know.”

ED-E curiously beeped at her. Six turned to face him.

“They need to know that the Legion is past the Dam.”

Warning the New California Republic meant going back the way they came, even further, actually. Six knew it had to be done. If the Legion is in the Mojave, then they’re gearing up for another assault. The people of the Mojave - herself included - didn’t want to end up on a cross like that.

So, they left Nipton, going back the way they came. Only this time, they took a turn to the west, towards the monument that she pointed out before. 

Up ahead there was trouble. A local gang liked to roam around these parts; Six couldn’t remember their name, but she knew of them. It looks like that former Powder Ganger - the one that was screaming about winning some kind of lottery - found his way to them. He was lying lifelessly down on the ground, face first. A few of the gang’s members were over his corpse, picking anything they could off him.

Jackals. That’s what their gang was called. The Jackal Gang. Six suddenly realized why.

She’d been too busy trying to remember their name that Six didn’t realize she’d been spotted. A yell went out - she saw people rush to arms, and heard a roaring crack across the air.

Something punched her in the gut. Six flung back and hit the ground, tumbling into a ditch just off the road. ED-E watched her go, rapidly beeping tunes of worry. When he saw she was still alive, ED-E played his old cowboy tune and zoomed towards the attackers.

The courier’s vision blurred. She couldn’t breathe. Her right hand pressed against the hole in her side, oozing blood that her fingers desperately tried to keep in. Her left hand scraped against the dirt, fighting to pull her behind a rock and into some cover. She listened as gunshots filled the air, along with ED-E’s laser bolts being fired.

Time seemed to slow. She’d been laying out in the dust for so long it felt like, the Mojave sun fully risen and shining down on her with all its might. Her brain cursed her for not finding cover earlier and allowing them to fucking shoot her. She didn’t live this long just to die in some ditch.

It wasn’t long before ED-E raced back over to her. Six noticed areas in his metal that had been dented, paint chipped off where bullets hit. He lowered himself down to her and pressed the front of his hull against Six’s arm. She lifted it and dropped it over his shell, letting his hover tech help her to her feet.

“We’re… we’re not far. Come on,” Six breathlessly mumbled, more to herself than to ED-E. They hobbled past the bodies of the gang members, each one carrying a new hole somewhere in their body. ED-E was proving to be more than capable of being useful. 

Together, Six wasn’t sure how far they’d gone. She stared at her feet, letting her companion take the lead. She watched as blood seeped down her body and on the arid concrete. Dark red stained her stomach and legs. She could feel it beneath her leather. A little blood never ruined any clothes, though.

It wasn’t long before the two were weaving through destroyed Old World tech and found themselves at the foot of the massive monument: a New California Republic Ranger shaking the hand of a true Veteran Ranger, showing the joining of the two groups for the better of the Mojave. Six always thought it’d be more appropriate if they depicted the two men jerking each other off, because that’s what it felt like with every interaction with a ranger she’s had. They get off to it - knowing they have that title to brag.

“Ghost! What do you see?!” A masculine voice in front of them called out.

Six looked up to see a ghostly white woman in front of her, her eyes silently judging the two beneath her sunglasses. “Where’re you coming from?” The woman asked Six, emotion devoid in her voice.

“Ni-Nipton…” Six coughed after she spoke. Her hand dropped from her stomach, no longer having the energy to hold it there.

Ranger Ghost - at least, Six assumed she was this Ghost character - eased Six off of the eyebot’s metallic body. Six leaned over on her and laid her head against her shoulder, almost being dragged rather than helped to walk. Ranger Ghost pressed a hand to Six’s stomach where she’d been shot and started to carry her off towards the rest of the troopers.

“Are the Powder Gangers the reason there’s been no traffic out of the town? With all that smoke, it certainly -”

“No,” Six choked. She took a moment to catch her breath. “Nipton was - Nipton was hit by the Legion.”

Six could feel Ranger Ghost tighten up. The news was… the last thing she’d been expecting to hear. “Legion this far fucking west? You’re fucking kidding me..” Ghost’s free hand removed her glasses, tucking them down in her shirt. “That’s not outside the border, they’re moving in - and fast. Nipton wasn’t the most friendly town, but….”

At this point, it seemed like Ghost was talking to herself and not to anyone in particular. The courier wasn’t really listening to her anyway. Ranger Ghost carried Six into the nearest building, over to one of the free bunks near some bar. She saw that she was surrounded by other New California Republic soldiers, saw that ED-E was still with her, and saw Ranger Ghost lay her on to said bunk. She saw all this, but didn’t exactly feel like she was really experiencing it.

Two of the medics came rushing in when Ghost laid her town. “Fucking Mojave’s going to hell, and all I can do is sit here and watch.” The albino woman walked out, the medics filled her vision, and darkness started to wash over her eyes faster than she would’ve liked. Six decided it was worth giving in. She’d come back from worse.

Her body went limp. Unconsciousness filled her mind, and she lost all sense of time.

In her unconscious state, Six found herself dreaming of the same town from when she’d been shot in the head. Such vivid memories showed her images of children, people farming - people laughing, especially.. people living. She’d always felt joy whenever this town was around, but she couldn’t even remember the name of it. They always flew an Old World flag over their buildings and boasted it proudly. It was… somewhere in the Divide. And they were a beautiful tribe.

Was it her home? Her real home? No - no, Six knew that she never had a real home. Her mother was sold into slavery, and her father… oh, how she missed her father. A courier like his daughter, her father helped her learn how to live off the land, and how to truly wield a weapon.

She was ashamed to admit she couldn’t remember how he died. It was so long ago, the details fade over time, especially with all the death she’d seen. All she knew was: he was definitely dead. Otherwise, he’d have found her by now. He was good like that.

Light started to pierce through her eyelids, and music echoed in her ears. She wasn’t dead - again, death decided to give her a second chance.

“Oh, you’re awake. Look at that.” A bleak, monotone woman said. Six’s vision showed her nothing but a blur, but the blur started to subside, and a woman with beautiful blood-red hair stood next to her bunk. Most of her hair was tucked away by her gallon hat. She was holding a bottle of whisky in her hand that lost its label over the years, but damn sure didn’t lose its color. 

“What?” Six’s voice was groggy and dehydrated. The woman offered her bottle over for Six to take. “Do you.. have any water?” When Six started to sit up, a sharp pain stabbed in her gut like a trillion needles all being stabbed in her at once.

“There’s water at the bar. You want some, go get some.” The red-head turned around and retreated back towards the bar she mentioned, and took a seat at one of the stools at the head. 

ED-E raced over when he saw Six was alive. His happy beeping drowned out the music being blared over a static-y radio. She pushed herself off the bed and pressed her feet to the ground. Blisters formed on the bottom of her feet, luckily the pain in her stomach helped her not register them. Well, not so luckily, but still.

ED-E and Six went up to the bar. Six wrapped her legs around the stool next to the red-head and sat herself upon it. “Uh - a water, miss,” She called the barmaid. The barmaid brought her over a glass of lukewarm water - which Six was more than happy to drink up. When she finished it, she caught the woman next to her looking at her suspiciously. 

“So.. do you have a name?” Six asked her, leaning her forearms onto the counter.

The red-head didn’t look at her after that. She took another drink from her bottle and shrugged. “Why do you care?”

“Just askin’, really. That’s not a crime in the Republic, I don’t think.” 

“No, it’s not - but it’s also not a crime to tell you to mind your own fuckin’ business.”

“All right,” Six scoffed, a grin loosely forming over her lips. She saw that this woman clearly loved her booze, as evidenced by the multiple empties bottles of whisky next to her. “How about a drink instead?”

“How about a drink?” The girl mocked. “How about a couple, is what you mean.” She waited until Six laid down ten caps - some of which were payment from that Goodsprings showdown - before she continued talking. “Drinking to forget, and it’s only getting me mad instead. Whisky always gets my temper up - now more than ever.”

She knocked back another gulp of the fire liquid and slammed the glass down on the counter. “Drinking used to cause all sorts of trouble back west - before I punched enough people, that is, and they learned to lay low when the whisky hit.”

Six admired the woman’s features. The way her sharp jaw lined back to her neck. The way her pink lips tasted the alcohol. The way her bright blue eyes stared at nothing in particular, eventually finding their way to Six herself, where both pair of eyes met. 

Shit, it’s been a long twenty-four hours. It was nice to sit back and enjoy a looker for once.

“What are you trying to forget?” Six delicately asked, like she was afraid the question was going to bring out this temper of hers.

“Lost my caravan heading north, the driver burned to ash - and they didn’t even take the cargo, they just burned that, too.” Venom stained the red-head’s words. Whoever had wronged her, she aimed to make pay.

“Doesn’t sound like raiders,” Six noted. Raiders wouldn’t waste ammo unless they were getting something worthwhile out of it.

The woman nodded her head. She seemed to have the same train of thought as Six did. “My guess is Legion, they’re trying to cut NCR’s supply line… and the Mojave Outpost is proof. Got us locked up tighter than a New Vegas virgin. No caravans in, out, and just try arguing about it with Jackson. ‘Roads aren’t safe,’ he says. No shit, you washed-out old fuckup, I didn’t need a Brotherhood scribe to tell me that.”

Six knocked back her own glass and let the fiery liquid ooze down her throat. It burned on the way in, but helped relieve her of the pain down below. “So, what are you going to do?”

The woman lifted her glass. “Drink. Got a lot of memories to drown. If I die while doin’ it, so be it. Got nowhere else to go. Jackson won’t let me head north, it’s not safe… and even though my caravan’s gone, my caravan papers are keeping me here. So if you came here for work, my advice? Go find the Crimson Caravan branch, south of Vegas. They can help you out.” 

Six saw how it looked like she was done talking. The girl was too invested in her whisky now to pay Six anymore mind. So, feeling like she was ready to get back out on the road, Six pushed herself off the stood and started to head towards the door.

“Hey,” The woman called out. Six turned around, staring at her with a hand on the door. “You wanted to know my name. How ‘bout you tell me yours first?”

Six resisted the urge to laugh - she knew how stupid she’d sound. “I’m, uh - I’m Six.”

The red-head lifted a brow. She had surprisingly good control over it, lifting it with more expression than she’d seen anyone else. “Like, the number. Six.” Six nodded her head. Yeah, it was as stupid as she thought.

“Okay, Six. Call me Cass,” The woman, now known as Cass, gave up. Huh. She looked like a Cass. 

“Well, Cass, if I’m ever back up this way, I’ll be sure to stop by an’ pay you a visit.” Six pushed the door open - the Mojave night sky was overhead now. She’d been out for the whole day, it seemed. She needed that damn sunlight, too.

“Try not to get killed, Number Six,” Cass left her with. The door shut between the two; Six now ready to leave the outpost she’d been shot trying to get to. When she started back on the road, Six looked up to the ranger post up behind her and shot a quick wave to Ranger Ghost. Ghost only gave her a nod back.

If getting shot helps her find company like Cass and Ghost - hey, maybe she won’t shy away from bullets as much. 

Actually, fuck that.


	7. Novac: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More walking. A courier's life was mostly walking, but god, she despised it right now. The courier's got nothing but her thoughts and ED-E's music to help her sanity, until she spots the work of the Legion. The bastards were carving their way through the Mojave, and sooner or later, she'd run into them again....

Everyone was shot now and then. It’s part of living in this world. At some point in your life, you’d be shot - whether by accident or on purpose all depended on who you pissed off. People will shoot a person for just about anything. Hell, Six shot that girl over a necklace. A necklace that she definitely wasn’t going to wear anytime soon.

On the highway back towards Nipton, Six thought about what she was walking in to. The Legion soldiers were definitely gone by now - it had been over twelve hours, that much she knew. Her Pip-Boy said that it was roughly 1 A.M. The moon agreed, as it was aligned just barely above her. Hopefully that meant the roads were clear right about now.

She also thought of that girl she’d left behind. What was her name? Cass. Yeah, Cass. The alcoholic. Cass pointed Six off to go find the Crimson Caravan Company by New Vegas. That man she met in Goodsprings, Ringo, said to meet him there, too. Looks like she had business there after all.

Cass was beautiful. A certain kind of… California beauty. All the girls from California could beat out any other girl from any other part of the Wasteland, hands down. Cass was no different with the way her fiery locks tied up tightly behind her head. The way the dim lighting inside the bar reflected off her Mutfruit colored eyes. Her pale skin ate up any light that touched it. Six was almost jealous - jealous that the sun turned her skin darker over the years. She remembered what it was like to have such nice skin, all those years ago.

Damn. How long had it been since she’d gotten laid? She thought there might have been a chance with that Sunny Smiles girl, before she got put six foot under. Powder Ganger bastards. They’d get what’s comin’ to them one of these days.

Honestly, the Powder Gangers were small time compared to the pure might of the Legion. Six remembered who the real threat was when she passed through Nipton a second time. Most of the fires burned out, while some still raged. Over half the buildings in the town were reduced to ashes. The men on the crosses died that night. The Mojave sun will kill a man quick without any water. Primm was the next target, no doubt. Novac - a small town just to the north of Nipton - always had NCR troops moving through there. The town was built practically on the biggest highway in Nevada. Not even raiders got too close to the town.

ED-E followed behind her. He thought it was appropriate to play one of the local radio stations out of his speakers - which Six didn’t mind. Mr. New Vegas had a voice that could charm a Deathclaw. Deathclaws were powerful beasts with razor sharp claws as long as a man’s arm. They were as tall as two grown men stacked on top of one another, and were faster than anything she’d ever seen. Most people didn’t survive encounters with them.

Deathclaws were the reason Six was taking the long way to New Vegas. Supposedly, the nearest interstate by Primm was infested with the pricks. No one that liked living dared to travel that road now.

A little ways after she crossed the state line from California to Nevada, Six saw dead raider - no, Jackal gang members - all laid out on the side of the road. They’d been dead for a while, it looked - their bodies were pale, and blood crusted their wounds. She counted four men and two women, all stripped completely nude. The men had bullet holes in their foreheads. The women’s throats were slashed.

The men were given quick deaths. Six didn’t think she could say the same for the women. The Mojave was a cruel wasteland.

This was the work of Caesar’s Legion. The men she saw in Nipton - they did this, and they probably did worse to the old inhabitants of the towns. Fuckers. While she didn’t feel any sympathy for the men, she did feel for the women. The Jackals were brutal people, but..

It didn’t matter. What’s done is done. She had to keep moving.

The more time that passed, the closer ED-E and his courier friend grew to Novac. They’d finally made their way up onto an old concrete overpass when Six stopped to point north. “See that, ED-E?” She made sure to point to the busted silhouette of a T-Rex - a creature that lived long before man rose to power. “That’s Novac. Nearly there, pal.” She pet her palm against ED-E metallic hull and kept it moving. 

The night sky did well to hide them. At this point, Six honestly preferred to move around at night. While it meant she couldn’t see as well, the same went for anyone else that was looking to cause her harm. The moment she stepped out into the sun, she was shot - her skepticism should be understood. At least she hoped.

Six came down a hill to see the remains of an old power station just outside of Novac. She’d heard stories about how people much smarter than her were able to get places like this up and running again. Places like HELIOS One, which was a station that could harness the energy from sunlight and turn it into energy that powered lights and fans and anything she could ever want.

Over the years, people tried to explain to her how all of it worked, but she never could comprehend them. Hell, she can’t even remember her own name - how’s she supposed to figure out how sunlight makes a fan spin all the way in Dayglow? 

She tried to avoid places like that as best she could - abandoned compounds that served nothing more than a grave reminder of the finite nature of life. They were nothing more than graveyards for people that lived in luxury two hundred years ago and threw it all away or something as stupid as a difference in ideologies. Old World people were so smart with all their different technologies, but they shit all over them and now people like Courier Six are forced to freeze in the night air while walking miles from location to location. Fuck ‘em.

“Hello there!” A voice from the darkness called out. The moonlight shot light onto the stranger, revealing him to ED-E and Six. ED-E frantically beeped, like a dog whose tail had been stepped on accidently. He was scared, she realized - and for good reason. Six nearly shit herself too when he called out to her. “It’s nice to see a friendly face! Almost took you for a raider, I did. Name’s Malcolm. Malcolm Holmes.”

Six’s handgun was already up and pointed at the man’s chest. She wasn’t sure if he could see that - her silhouette was fairly hidden in the dark. All but one side of her face was hidden beneath the night.

“Don’t suppose you’d care to trade?” He threw his hand back to pat against his scavenger’s backpack. Six’s finger tensed; she didn’t see what he reached for at first. “I’m missin’ a few essentials and - oh, screw this. Lyin’ just ain’t in my nature. I’ll tell it to you straight. I’ve been following you for a good bit now.”

That didn’t make her feel any easier. Six would’ve preferred a comforting lie over something like that. “Don’t follow me. You’ll live longer,” She threatened. Normally she wouldn’t be so hostile to someone coming up and talking to her, but it was the middle of the night, and he’d already announced he’d been following her. No doubt he had friends somewhere sighted in on her.

Malcolm’s hands went up, showing his flat palms spread in the air. “Okay, you’re a dangerous sort. I get that. But I have some information I think you’ll find useful, which made me follow you for a spell. It started off innocently enough. I was travelling, as I often do, and happened to observe you picking up one of those blue-star caps. You didn’t show any reaction to it, so I figured you didn’t know what you’d gotten your hands on.”

Oh, shit. He saw her kill that bitch near Nipton. And he saw her loot her corpse, too. So why would a man watch someone kill another person, follow them for hours, and ambush them in the middle of the night if they didn’t have some ulterior motive?

“Why didn’t you say anything then and there?” Something didn’t add up to her. Maybe this man was friends with the guy that the purple-haired girl shot. Maybe he was looking to do the same thing to Six.

“I had to make sure of your disposition. There’s a lot of jumpy folks out there that’d shoot a man as soon as talk to him.” Six was thankful he couldn’t see her gun - or, at the very least, chose to ignore it. But no one ignores a gun to them. “Now that we’re conversing, though, I can tell you what I know about those caps. There’s an old wasteland legend that says there is a fabulous treasure from before the war. Those caps with the blue star on them, the tale goes, are the key to that treasure. They’re called Sunset Sarsaparilla Stars.”

Something about Malcolm Holmes made Six uneasy, and it wasn’t the obvious bit of him being one of the shadiest fuckers she’s ever met. His accent was different. He wasn’t from California. He spoke like an eastern man - she’d met a few out in a part of the wasteland named Montana some years back. What was an eastern man doing in Nevada? Maybe she was an idiot to do so, but she ultimately decided to lower her pistol. If Malcolm wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have wasted his time following her. “What kind of treasure are we talkin’ about?” Six wanted to know. She’d never heard any tales of bottle caps leading to treasure.

Malcolm’s shoulders went up and down in a shrug. “No one knows. Money? Weapons? Water? It is, or maybe was, something of value, and that’s enough to get people motivated.”

Six thought it over. Caps for treasure. It sounded like a scam to her. 

The sound of her handgun sliding into its holster again made Malcolm start to step back. “Thanks for the info,” Six said as she started to walk back to Novac. She was practically on the outskirts of the town now. “But I’ll be going.”

Malcolm spoke to her as she walked away, his voice rising the further away she got. “No problem. If you do end up trying to collect more stars, watch out for a man named Allen Marks! He’s killed several people for their stars already!”

She got to the town center when Six saw that same robot from before, the one that helped her back at Goodsprings. Victor was his name - Doc Mitchell told her as much.

“Well butter my buy and call me a biscuit, if it ain’t my old friend from Goodsprings!” Victor rolled up to Six on his single wheel, swaying side to side as he moved. The screen that showed his cowboy face was almost blinding to her, a stark contrast to the darkness of the Mojave night. 

“Victor? What are you doing here in Novac?” Six was skeptical, mainly because of the robot’s ominous warning to her the last time she saw him. Something about watching her back - she couldn’t remember, except that it gave her the wrong kind of vibe.

“Don’t rightly know - I just got the notion to make my way to New Vegas. Reckon I’ll find out when I get there.” Victor’s speakers put on a surprisingly good imitation of a real voice. If it didn’t have that hollowness to it - that lack of human emotion - Six would’ve thought there was actually someone inside that metal husk.

“Quite a coincidence us meetin’ here like this.” Six turned to glance at ED-E. ED-E was fascinated by another robot, one that new his buddy Six, too.

“Seein’ how this is the only road around, I’d be a sight more surprised if we didn’t run into each other from time to time.”

“Right, well… you said the men that jumped me were headin’ this way, right?”

“No, don’t believe I did, but you might ask around - the Novac folk usually see anyone travellin’ this way.” Victor raised one of his metal claws up and pointed to the colossal dinosaur overlook. Six nodded in return, knowing he was right. If someone was bound to see them coming out this way, they’d be up in that tower. 

“All right, Victor. I’m goin’ to go check it out. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course, friend. Be seein’ you.”

Victor rolled off into the night, leaving a lone dust trail behind him. His metallic innerworkings hummed into silence when he grew far enough away. His silhouette shrunk beneath the moonlight.

Six was glad to see him go. Even ED-E curiously beeped while he watched Victor leave. That cowboy robot was nothing but a bad feeling.

But she’d take his advice. If there was anyone that could’ve seen where the men who shot her were, it would be whoever’s inside that sniper’s hutt. The only thing that stood between the inside of the dinosaur and her was a creaky set of stairs that looked like it was going to crack the moment her foot stepped on it. It didn’t, thankfully - and Six entered the building and marched up another sturdier staircase. The door at the top was open. When Six pulled it towards her to open it some more, it creaked, and-

“Goddamn it!” A hardy man yelped. He spun his rifle around, but didn’t aim it at her. He kept it pointing down by her feet. Interestingly enough, this guy had on an NCR beret - she’d seen the insignia before, but couldn’t put a finger to what group it belongs to. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. What do you want?”

Six shrugged innocently enough. The left side of her hips leaned into the door; her arms folded across her chest. “Just lookin’ around.”

“There’s nothing up here,” The man coldly put. Six couldn’t hardly see his features - he was white, she saw that much, but it didn’t look like he had any hair. Other than the beret, there weren’t any NCR tags on him. Or, well, he could’ve had a pair of dog tags on him. She couldn’t tell.

“There’s a sniper.” Six smirked. A little friendly banter went a long way in the Wasteland - the roads were long and unforgiving. She took every chance she had to get some enjoyment.

The sniper knew she was toying with him. His lips thinned. “I think you’d better leave.”

“Just making friendly conversation.” She pushed off the door and stepped closer, shutting it behind her. ED-E decided he didn’t like cramped spaces and hovered outside the dinosaur’s mouth, like a fly picking at its teeth. She sat down and stretched her legs out as best she could - the cramped hutt didn’t give her much leg room. Still, it felt good to sit down.

“I don’t have friends here,” The blank man stated. He spun around to get back on his guard duty, occasionally peeking over his shoulder to look at the courier.

“Well, I’m not from here.” 

A few second’s time went by. The man huffed, then turned back around. “No. No, you’re not, are you? Maybe you shouldn’t go.” He looked down at her attire. She could tell that he wasn’t checking her out, more-so… examining if she was capable of something. “Not just yet.”

Six’s mouth went open and she laughed. Her laughter echoed out against the walls. “So now you want something from me.” He’d been nothing but cold to her, and now he was going to give her a job. If only jobs came that easy.

“I need someone I can trust. You’re a stranger. That’s a start.” 

The courier rose an eyebrow. Not quite as expressive as that Cass girl, but it did the job. “You only trust strangers?” She questioned.

He shot her down, bluntly affirming what he’d said before. “I said it was a start.” She caught his gaze drifting down to the center of town. “This town… nobody looks me straight in the eye anymore.”

She came to her feet, dusting off the shards of wood that rotted away over the years. “All right. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to find something out for me. I don’t know if there’s anything to find, but I need someone to try. My wife-” He stopped. Uh oh, Six thought. Love problems. “My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don’t know who.”

Six listened intently as he spoke. Her fingertips scratched in a semi-circle around the stitched up wound in her stomach. “You’re trying to track down your wife?” She’d have to stop before this went too far. Six was proud to say that she kept her reputation clean as a courier. She couldn’t make enemies with the Legion.

“My wife’s dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her.”

“Shit, uh… all right. How - how do you know your wife is dead?” She probably should’ve prepared herself for such a drastic turn, but it did always hurt to hear of dead loved ones. For a brief second, she thought of that Sunny girl and how her dog whined next to her corpse. Poor dog. All alone without her master.

“I know, all right?” The man jabbed out a finger. “And that’s all you need to know.”

“So, what do I do if I find this person?” Six knew it was best not to push it any further. She wouldn’t want to talk about her dead wife given the chance - like she had a wife to begin with.

“Bring him out in front of the nest here while I’m on duty. I work nights.” The sniper’s left hand went up to his head and tore off his blood-red beret. “I’ll give you my NCR beret to put on. It’ll be our signal, so I know you’re standing with him.” He rose his rifle up. Six wasn’t sure if he was trying to put emphasis on it or not. “And I’ll take care of the rest. I need to do this myself.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can do to help you out, man.”

He handed over his beret. Six took it and tucked it in her waistband - probably the last place he’d want her to put it, but it’d get too dirty inside her pack. Besides, the beret’s material was warm and inviting. “Good. I’ll make it worth your while. And one more thing - we shouldn’t speak again. Not until it’s over. No one in town knows that I know what happened to my wife. Best they never know. Or the Legion will be after me next.”

With his beret off, Six noted that the man was bald. Or, well, he had some hair on top of his head. More like a low buzz. Practically bald, though. When she turned around to walk out, she hesitated. “Hey, you never told me your name.”

“Boone,” was all he said. He kept his back to her from then on out.

“Well, I’m Six. The number.”

He wasn’t in the mood for talking. She knew that - he knew that. So, she left, heading back down the stairs she was positive wouldn’t give out beneath her, then down the ones she thought would.

Before she sent anyone to their deaths, Six was going to eat. She was fucking HUNGRY, and it probably had something to do with the hole in her stomach. She marched over to the main building and nearly threw the door open. A small gasp came from behind the reception desk.

Six walked up to said desk and saw an older lady with remarkably good looking legs stuffing something inside a ground safe. She hurried to close it. “Ah - just a second, dear!”

Six pressed her palms down on the counter. “I just need a room.”

The older lady pressed a hand to the counter and pulled herself up. “Well, you do look tired from the road. I can give you a good flat rate and you can stay as long as you’d like. ‘Least ‘till the busy season comes. Just one hundred caps. Sound good?”

“Sure. Here’s one hundred caps.” Six dug into her pack and removed the last bit of her caps, some of which were those blue star caps she’d killed that girl for. Treasure didn’t matter when her feet ached.

“I’m glad you can stay with us,” The old crone put with the fakest smile Six had ever witnessed. “Your room will be the one upstairs, closest to the lobby side. Here’s your key. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay better for you!”

Six took the key and tucked it away. She wasn’t about to drop it and lose out on all those caps. “Hey - one more thing. I’m lookin’ for some gentlemen that took something from me. One was wearing a real fancy checkered suit of a sorts.”

“Well, he might’ve been wearing a fancy outfit, but he wasn’t any kind of a gentleman to me. Had his nose stuck so high in the air, you couldn’t see it above the clouds. City folk, they always think they deserve better than what they got. Those hoodlums he was with seemed to know Manny for some reason. He’s our daytime sniper, up in the dinosaur’s mouth.”

“Got it, thanks.” Six was anxious to end the conversation. The prospect of a bed that still had most of its springs waiting for her was too enticing to pass up on. Without another word to the receptionist lady, Six walked out of the office and half-jogged up to her room. She fumbled with the key before managing to unlock it, and when she opened it - oh, man, there was even a working refrigerator. She was quick to shut it behind ED-E when he finally came zooming in.

“All right, ED-E, best I power you down for now.”

ED-E lowly hummed. He knew she was right, but didn’t want to risk losing her like his last companion. “Don’t worry, pal,” Six said, hovering her finger over his power switch. “I’ll still be here to wake you up I ain’t leavin’ you behind.”

When she flicked him off, he fell into her arms, and holy shit he was heavier than she anticipated. She barely managed to hold him upright, almost dropping him once or twice before she carried him to a seat by the door.

Speaking of the door, she locked it after setting ED-E down. She made sure the blinds were closed all the way, too, before she unslung her pack and tossed it to the ground. Her gunbelt was next - she gently set than by the nightstand just in case.

Six sat on the bed and relished in the feeling of its Old War softness. She kicked off her leathery boots, pulled down her socks, and picked at a few blisters that popped when pricked. The next thing she did was remove her leather top - and the bra that belonged to Doc Mitchell’s wife. She let her torso breathe for the first time in days. Six stood up and pulled down her trousers, as well, then yanked down Doc Mitchell’s wife’s underwear. Well… they were hers now, weren’t they? So technically, it was her underwear, not some dead woman’s.

God, her body ached. Her neck cracked, her back snapped, and her legs shook when she stretched them out. Her body was telling her that she needed a moment to stop and take a break. Well, here it is. The only break she’s going to get in a long time. Might as well eat something. Or maybe she’d check the refrigerator to see if that old bitch at the front desk kept her rooms in stock for visitors. Six’s bare feet pitter-pattered against stained carpet that seemed to crunch with every step she took. Her skin was raw from the armor that so tightly pressured her body.

It felt good to be nude. Unburdened from the Wasteland.

She stepped over to the refrigerator and opened it up. Much to her surprise, the light inside even worked, illuminating its contents within. She took out a cold beer that no doubt was probably going to taste like piss, and hobbled back over to her pack. Inside, she removed a can of pork ‘n beans, a few jalapeños she picked up along the way, and a banana yucca plant.

Six was relieved to sit down at a dining table for once, instead of on some rock in the middle of the desert. She took bites of her food and drank down her beer, filling her up quicker than she’d expected. With the gunshot she took, she definitely figured she’d have to eat more to help balance out the blood she lost. Nope. Her body said she was good.

With dinner out of the way, she collapsed on the bed, landing on her back. She spread her body out against its inviting comfort and shut her eyes, taking in the moment. It’d be a long time before she got to sleep in another bed. Especially if she was headed to New Vegas. Most would probably think that going to Vegas meant hot food, clean water, a comfortable bed, and a hooker’s lips on your own - but they found themselves in for a shock when they got there.

Six wouldn’t let herself fall for that trap. She knew she’d have to make do when she got there, not fall into the cesspool that was gambling. Still - none of it mattered right now.

Right now, she was going to sleep. If only that Cass girl was here next to her.


	8. Novac: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six remembers a past life. Then she wakes back up in the hell that is the Mojave. Now she's left to deal with the mystery of who took Boone's wife and sold her to the Legion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the two that left kudos in the past few days. It's great to know that you enjoy it enough to show it. I hope you'll keep enjoying it, and will stick around as I pump more chapters out.

The courier slept like a rock - still, unmoving. Her dreams were of green fields, fresh water streams, a cloudless sky that carried its blue all across the horizon. She dreamed of an oasis, somewhere the brutality of the Wasteland would be left behind.

In her dream, the courier bathed in the clear blue water. It was warm, inviting, and soothed every inch of her bare body. The water washed away the dust and grime of the Mojave, cleaning her of its touch. The pure tranquility she felt was unmatched, with the sun shining down on her with different intentions. Instead of beating down on her, this sun warmed her body to a pleasant temperature. She didn’t sweat, nor did she wish she had something to protect her from its heat. No, she invited it in, allowing the sun to bask her in its warmth.

Someone called a name out above the stream. The courier glanced up to check.

Another girl. Another person whose intentions weren’t to harm her. No, this girl meant to join her. She laughed and stripped herself down, joining the courier in her natural look. The courier saw how beautiful her body was - the way her muscles tightened at her abdomen, forming six different lumps of pure rock. The way her bare chest freely moved with her movements. The way her legs strut as she walked - and she was walking right to her. Not in a threatening manner, not like she hadn’t seen her - no, like she was truly joining her in the water.

The courier swam up to meet her. The woman laughed at her attempt to swim - the courier was never too graceful in the water. She’d grown up surrounded by constant desert. She’d only learned to swim when she visited the land known as Washington. The courier grew closer, and eventually realized… the girl had no true face. She was nothing but a blur. Her hair was dark, that much she could see, but the color of her eyes, the softness of her lips - she couldn’t see.

The girl called out a name again. A name that the courier didn’t hear. It was nothing more than an echo from a memory torn away by brass in her skull.

“Six,” Courier Six mumbled. “My name is Six.”

Six felt the girl’s hand touch her own. She rose it up and moved it to her face, cupping her cheek. Six’s hand cupped at nothing. Nothing but a blur.

“No, it isn’t. You don’t remember?” The girl’s hollow voice spoke. She was almost angelic, a sharp tone that was too pure for a normal person.

“No. I don’t remember my name.” Six’s hand lowered. Her shoulders slumped, defeated. Her chocolate eyes glanced down at her feet, ashamed.

She felt the girl’s finger against her chin. She felt her lift her head back up to meet her blurry face. She didn’t feel her lips against hers. She didn’t feel the touch of her lips, her tongue in her mouth - she didn’t feel anything but the finger.

The girl pulled her head away. Her expressionless face stared back at Six. “Maybe that’s all you are now. A number. You can’t even remember me.” The girl’s tone shifted. She grew sad, almost disappointed. Even though Six couldn’t see her face, she saw her body slump. “You can’t remember where we are, why we’re here. You said you’d never leave me, remember?”

“No, I-” Six’s voice cracked. She tried her damnedest to remember this girl - but nothing came up. Nothing but the memories of all the other women she’d met along the way, women who meant nothing to her but a fun night and an empty bottle in the morning.

“You promised you’d never leave. Maybe you should. Go ahead.” The blurry figure stepped back onto the shore. Her body travelled up into the tree line, disappearing into the lush greenery forever.

“Wait!” Six cried out. She stumbled onto the shore, soaking wet and exposed. She climbed her way up to where the girl walked - nothing. Her heart thumped out of her chest, and she collapsed onto her knees. She was gone. Six was alone again. Just as she always was. 

Then she woke up in that Novac room - alone, aside from her eyebot companion that couldn’t even speak English. The sun was up all the way, casting light through the curtains and onto her body. The sunlight made a point to shine specifically onto her stomach, where the stitches continued to hold her wound together. 

Six hadn’t moved much throughout the night. She was still spread out on the bed, overtop the blanket they’d provided her. She didn’t want to move. Six wanted to stay right there, naked, alone, and comfortable. But she knew she had business to get to. Her eyes glanced down at her feet and eyed the blisters on her heels. They started to heal overnight, but no doubt would go raw again after she hit the road.

A sigh escaped her nostrils. She swung her legs to the side, pressed her feet to the carpet and pushed herself up from the bed. She groaned - her body ached. Every inch of her was sore, from head to toe. Her legs were tense and it hurt to move them. Her stomach was rock hard; every twist she did, it screamed at her to stop. She had to press on.

Anyone could lie down for a while and rest. That’s what the man that shot her was more than likely doing in New Vegas. Drinking, gambling, whoring - all while she was stood nude in some shitty hotel room in an equally shitty town. It wasn’t fair - but the fairness would catch up when she put a bullet in his head, like he’d done to her.

Just thinking about the shot in the head she’d received caused a sharp pain to resonate from the scar. It yelled at her to stop thinking about it. Otherwise, the pain was never going away.

The first order of business was to turn ED-E back on. She found the same power switch from before and flicked it back on. ED-E’s inner workings buzzed for a moment. He rose back to live and beeped rapidly. 

“Hey, pal. Ready to hit the road again?”

ED-E lifted his hull up and down in an almost nod-like gesture. 

“All right. Gimme’ a second and we’ll head out.”

Six walked over to where she’d stored her leather armor. She took a look at the undergarments she’d worn before and chose to not put them on this time. All they did was put pressure on her that wasn’t appreciated. And besides, the leather top was tight enough to keep things under wraps. 

She DID decide to take them with her, though. Maybe when she got to New Vegas, she could wear some actual clothes for once - then the underwear would be appreciated.

Six fastened the leather gear to her body, pulled her boots up her feet, and secured her gunbelt around her hips. After slinging her pack over her shoulders, she tied her hair back and pet ED-E’s metal front. “All right, pal. Let’s get moving.”

There was one thing she did before she left, though. Out of the corner of her eye, Six spotted a stuffed bear down on the ground by her bed. It was in pretty good condition - it had both its eyes, which was reason enough for her to take it. Maybe she could get a few caps for it. Or maybe some kid might have information she’ll need down the road, and she can give it to them.

Or maybe she’ll just keep it for herself. It’s always nice to cling on to something.

She tucked it down all the way in her pack, beneath all the essentials. One of these days, she’d have to buy a better backpack, one that she could properly organize instead of resorting to stuffing everything inside it.

On her way out the door, Six remembered Boone, and what he’d recruited her to do. She needed to ask around town for what happened to his wife. Someone was going to die tonight, that was for sure - she just hoped it was the right person.

The first person she thought to ask was the receptionist lady that rented her the room. She found her in the same spot as before: behind the desk in a dusty chair, scribbling on a notepad.

“Hey again,” Six said when she walked in. The old lady opened her mouth to talk, but Six wasn’t interested. “What can you tell me about Boone’s wife?” The lady hesitated - her eyes averted to her notepad. She seemed to think of something to say, like she was preparing herself.

“Well.. how should I put it? I guess you could say she was kinda’ like a cactus flower. Real pretty to look at, but there was just no getting close to her. She never did take to living here. She liked the big lights and fast living of New Vegas. I got the feeling she was just trying to get Boone to leave with her, but I guess she got tired of waiting.”

Six contemplated. Something about this old lady made her uneasy. The way she seemed so confident in her answer - the way she seemed so startled when Six approached her the night before.

“Right.” Six turned around and headed back for the door. She’d have to ask other people around town for an answer.

Back outside, the Mojave sun hit her skin like a hot knife. It was always nice to feel the sun on her skin, though sometimes, maybe they could dial it down a bit.

She walked around the town for a bit, eyeing the people that seemed to mindlessly walk like her. Novac didn’t have many people in it. Either that, or everyone preferred to stay inside. But if the Legion was wandering these parts, she couldn’t say she’d want to stick around, either.

She did see an old man in the middle of the street - eyes wide and crazy-like. Maybe he’d seen something.

“Who sent you?!” He demanded. The man was old and grey, but as jumpy as a giant mantis. “I ain’t talkin’! They tried to get me to talk before, but I didn’t say nothin’! And I don’t aim to now, by gum.”

“I don’t mean any harm,” Six said. Her hands casually lifted in the air, open-like to show she really didn’t. ED-E stayed on alert, though; Six was thankful, since she couldn’t draw quick enough at this distance.

“We’ll just see about that. You come any closer, and I’m liable to stick you with my stickin’ knife! Ol’ Sticky’s feelin’ mighty ornery this day.” The crazy old guy pet at the hilt of a knife tucked down in his waistband.

Six took a step back. She didn’t aim to be stabbed. “We can talk from this distance.”

He cupped his ear towards her. “You sure, now? It’s kinda’ hard to hear you.”

Six furrowed her eyebrows at him. Her eyes squinted along with them, glaring at the man. She didn’t say anything.

“Okay, okay. Just speak up a little. But no so much that They hear you. They got people everywhere, always listening.”

“Just - what do you know about the abduction of Boone’s wife?”

“Seen it all!” The man’s hands shot up. “Seen shadowy folk come into his room and leave again in the middle of the night. Thought one might’ve gone into the lobby, too, for a spell. Could be that person went in to get something. Or use the john, maybe. Might interesting either way, you ask me. I thought it was cannibals, come to eat us all for sure, so I kept out of sight. But I now know better.”

“Right… did you see who it was?”

“Molerat men, come up from the Underneath to steal young women with promises of riches and fancy mud mansions with all the latest designer appliances! They covet our ladyfolk’s long hair for wigs, it’s said, bein’ bald or balding themselves.”

Six and ED-E exchanged a look. She sighed, walking away without another word.

“If anyone asks, we never spoke!” The crazed man called out behind her.

The pair walked a little up the road, far enough from the man to not be disturbed.

“I don’t know what you think, ED-E, but I don’t think all of that was crazy. He said some people went into the lobby in the middle of the night, probably to get something. I didn’t see a bathroom in there, ‘less that bitch pisses in a bucket.”

ED-E lowly beeped in response. Six knew he agreed with her, she could feel it. 

“All right. I say we wait a while longer and head in there, see if we can’t get that damn safe open ourselves. What do you say?”

ED-E’s front went up and down again. He was getting real good at expressing himself, Six thought. For a robot, he was pretty intelligent. Or maybe she was just delusional from so little proper human interaction.

“Guess we’ll have to pass the time a little. It’s-” Six checked her Pip-Boy. The digital clock showed the time as 4:49 P.M. “-fucking late. Did I really sleep that long?” She looked to ED-E like she was expecting an answer, even though she’d put him to sleep along with her. All he did was stare back at her, knowingly. 

Still, she had to find a way to pass the time. She couldn’t go marching in there and demand she open the safe - the whole town would come down on her. Six had to wait until night, one: because Boone works at night, and two: because she needed a key off that bitch.

So, she decided to go take a while around town, seeing the sights. That killed roughly an hour. There wasn’t much to see inside Novac.

Maybe she’d try talking to people. It wasn’t too late, so people were probably still in the mood for talking. She walked into the courtyard near the hotel and saw a few different people, but no one was really talking to anyone. Everyone kept to themselves.

Six spotted an old bird with a nice hat on her head, and an old rifle slung over her shoulder. Six approached her to talk, but the old bird was the first to speak.

“Nice weather for flyin’! It’s times like these that make me miss it all.” The old woman’s face wrinkled heavier when she spoke, the muscles in her face barely having the strength to move anymore.

“You were a pilot?” Six heard stories of machines that could fly in the air like a bird, but faster than any bird could imagine. They could land in almost any part of the Wasteland, pick someone up, and fly to any other area in less than a day. Old World technology was something god-like compared to what they had now.

“Vertibird pilot. Seventy-one missions and only lost one chopper. Rotor malfunction over Klamath. Hard landing, but I walked away!”

Six’s head tilted. She didn’t think the New California Republic had Vertibirds in their arsenal. “Did you fly for the NCR?”

“For?” The old lady questioned, a smirk on her wrinkled lips. “No, not exactly. It was a long time ago. Things are a lot different these days, and those days are way behind me.”

“Huh… all right, then. Thanks for tellin’ me.” Six started to turn around, as the old lady spoke up again.

“Watch your six out there!”

Six almost laughed at that. She realized how stupid her name was, now. Just a number. That’s all she was.

The next person she went to talk to was - wait a second, she knew this man. A dark-skinned man with a deep voice and smooth chin. When he saw her coming, the man almost broke down and fell to his knees.

“Ahhh! Please don’t kill me!” He begged, cupping his hands together. “I swear, I’ll have - wait. You… you don’t work for Mr. Bishop, do you?”

One of Six’s eyebrows rose up. “What? No. I don’t. What makes you think that?”

The man’s shoulders lifted. He breathed a sigh of relief and shut his eyes, soaking in the fact that he wasn’t about to die. “Sorry, it’s just… you look like his type, y’know? You got that hard-ass wastelander explorer thing goin’ on.”

Suddenly, it hit her - she DID know this man. “Aren’t you that singer from New Reno? I swear I saw you play the clubs there.”

Confidently, the man boasted his chest forward and lifted his lips into a grin. “Oh, so you have heard of me! Yeah, that’s right. I was the big draw at the Shark Club. People used to pay hundreds of caps to see me.”

He was definitely worth the expense. Six remembered how talented of a singer he was, and how drunk she’d gotten that night. She woke up in an alleyway slumped over in a pool of her own vomit. “Why did you come all the way out here from New Reno?” She decided to ask him.

“You don’t know Mr. Bishop,” the Bruce Isaac said - that was the name she remembered. He spoke with almost a ghostly tone, like Mr. Bishop was some other-worldly figure that was out to get you. “He’s not like the other bosses up there. He knows the Wasteland like the back of his hand, and he likes to wander it.. I knew if I didn’t get way the hell away from New Reno, he’d run me down like a dog.”

Mr. Bishop was the owner of the Shark Club, she remembered. While Six never directly interacted with the man, she occasionally saw him leaning over a balcony by his room, staring down at the patrons below. Definitely not a man she’d want to cross, so why’d Bruce do it? “Why would this Mr. Bishop be after you?”

Isaac folded his arms. For a brief second, he shifted his gaze down to his feet, and a light blush hit his cheeks. “Oh, well, that’s all just a big misunderstanding, see..” He finally looked back up to Six. “Mr. Bishop, well, he owed me a lot of money, and, y’know, he’s a busy guy, so I sort of figured I’d just...take it off his hands.”

Six scoffed. She nearly laughed at that - Isaac definitely signed his death warrant by doing something as stupid at that. “You robbed a casino boss?”

Bruce Isaac lifts his fingers and did air-quotes when he first spoke. “”Robbed” is such an ugly word. It’s more like I took care of a payroll problem for him. Also, I might have… uhmmm… sort of… plowed his daughter. A little.”

Six couldn’t hold it in. She burst out laughing, slapping her knees when she doubled over. This man was either the bravest she’s ever met, or the dumbest. Composing herself, Six gave Isaac a two-fingered salute. “Wow. My hat is off to you - that takes some balls.”

Bruce didn’t know what to make of her laughter. It wasn’t a funny situation for him. “Thanks, but if Bishop finds me and I don’t have his money, my balls are going to be on his trophy wall.”

She wiped at her eyes and sniffled - it felt good to laugh that hard again. “Shit, well, I’ll let you know if I find any work for a singer. You were pretty good out there in New Reno - I’m sure some local places are lookin’ for work.”

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes went wide. “You’d do that? Great! I really appreciate that!”

Six turned towards the door as the sun started to lower. “Yeah, I’ll let you know. Goodbye, Isaac.” She damn well nearly burst out into another fit of laughter when she walked out the door.

Bruce waved at her while she left. He was ecstatic. “Yeah, yeah, see you later!”

She shut the door behind her and headed towards her own apartment. Six reckoned the sunlight was only going to last for another hour or two, then she’d head out on this mystery search to find whoever took Boone’s wife.

When she walked in her room, Six headed for the bed and turned on the radio by the night stand. The static soon turned to tunes as _Helen Forrest’s: Mad About the Boy_ filled the desolate hotel room’s inside. Six laid her head against the rough straw pillow and shut her eyes. With any luck, she’d be able to drift off into a nice sleep and return to that dream she’d had before - only this time, she’d make the outcome better.

And she did drift off, but she didn’t dream. For three hours, Six’s mind was blank, and all her eyes saw was the blackness beneath her eyelids. She’d awoken to Mr. New Vegas’ buttery voice reading news headlines on the radio. For the most part, she ignored it - it likely wasn’t important anyway.

_“...found shot in the head head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness and made a full recovery. Now that's a delivery service you can count on. Goodsprings has also fended off a mob of escaped convicts after organizing an impromptu militia, according to an old man armed to the teeth with dynamite.”_

Six smirked at the news report. ED-E listened intently, then hovered over to Six and curiously hummed.

“That’s right, ED-E. I made the radio.” She wiped the muck from her eyes and stood up, gathering her belongings. It was time to pay that old bird in the lobby a visit.

ED-E stayed close behind her. The pair walked out into the night air and down to the ground floor. She walked past the chain-link fence and into the lobby, where all the lights were turned off for the night. It seemed the woman went to bed for the night. No bother. Six turned on her Pip-Boy’s light and shined it around, a thick green light hitting the walls and floor around them. 

“ED-E, you think you can do something about that lock? I doubt that bitch keeps the key here.”

ED-E did as ordered. He flew over to the other side of the desk, lowered himself to the ground, and fired a single bolt of energy into where the locking mechanism was. It melted straight through the old steel.

Six walked over and lifted the safe’s door up. She wished she’d done something else instead, because ED-E burned a hole right through a bag of caps down there, as well as a handgun that was beneath the bag. She could have used both of those. She took the 9mm ammunition inside, though, so it wasn’t entirely worthless. 

Underneath the ammunition was something… interesting. Six lifted a paper up, signed with a stamp of the Legion’s Bear symbol. A feeling of remorse slapped her gut when she opened it up and started to read it.

_We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from Jeannie May Crawford of the township of Novac the exclusive rights to ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone for the sum of one thousand bottle caps, and those of her unborn child for the sum of five hundred bottle caps, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged. We warrant the slave and her young to be sound, healthy, and slaves for life. We covenant with the said, Jeannie May Crawford, that we have the full power to bargain and sell said slave and her offspring. Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps will be due pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document._

__

__

_-M. Scribonius Libo Drusus et al.  
Administrators of M. Licinius Crassus, Consul Officiorum ab Famulatus._

God, she wanted to puke. Six bit back the saliva forming under her tongue, swallowed down anything that dared to come up from her stomach, and marched right out the door. She was careful to tuck the bill down in her waistband, so this bitch wasn’t going to see what Six had with her. 

She found Jeannie May Crawford, the slaver bastard, sitting over by a campfire with a few other Novac residents.They had a mole rat over the fire, cooking its pink skin into a darker charred texture.

“Hey, Ms. Crawford?” Six called out in a sweet and innocent voice that sounded like she could do no wrong. “Could you come with me? There’s something you should see, in front of the dinosaur.”

Jeannie May lifted an eyebrow behind her square glasses. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Please, just come with me.” Six turned around and fixed Boone’s beret on the top of her head. She secured it tightly, hoping Boone could see it beneath the moonlight.

“Okay, if that’s what you think!” Ms. Crawford stood up and left the others by the campfire. She wandered off into the darkness - unknowing what was about to happen to her. The others didn’t know that would be the last time they’d ever see Jeannie May Crawford alive.

Six made sure to keep a good pace in front of Jeannie May. She didn’t want that old bitch to talk to her, otherwise she might have robbed Boone of his rightful kill. It was still hard to believe - slavery west of the Colorado. Six never thought she’d see the day.

They approached the front of the dinosaur. Six turned to watch Jeannie May approach her. She briefly glanced up to Boone in the sniper’s nest, but couldn’t see him. The moonlight was shining down on him in a way that masked the inside of the dinosaur’s mouth. She swore underneath her breath if he wasn’t up there.

When Six turned to Jeannie May, she saw her mouth open like she was about to talk - then a cloud of red mist burst where her head used to be. The left side of Six’s head was covered in her blood and brain matter. Six’s eyes were wide, her mouth was shut tight - she’d just watched someone’s head get obliterated. Even in her years in the Wasteland, that wasn’t something you got used to.

Jeannie May’s lifeless body hit the cold ground under her. Her head was missing, her neck connected to nothing. Occasionally, her fingers twitched, like her body refused to believe the brain was just destroyed.

Six had to leave. This town could get fucked for all she cared. But she had to go to Boone first. At least give him some closure on his wife.

She jogged up to the chain link fence where she met Victor before. Boone was already down there, waiting for her. He knew he had to leave too, no doubt. It wasn’t exactly a mystery who could have killed her like that.

“That’s it, then. How did you know?” Boone’s voice was cold, eerily similar to how he spoke when she first met him. 

Six lifted the paper up from out of her waist band and handed it over. She also took the beret off and handed it over, as well - the redness of the beret couldn’t even mask the blood that touched it. “I found the bill of sale.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’d be like them to keep paperwork.” Boone took a quick look at the paper, then folded it up and set it in his back pocket. He didn’t need to read what happened to his wife again. He handed her over a handful of caps. Six gladly took it - she knew she’d need it sometime down the road. “Here. This is all I can give. I think our dealings are done here.”

She tucked the caps away into her pack and looked up to him, eyebrows furrowed. Six found herself… worried. She knew Boone couldn’t stay here. “What will you do after this?”

“I don’t know. I won’t be staying, I know that.” Boone already started to hit the road, taking the path east out of town. “Don’t see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries.” 

Six jogged to catch up with him, then matched his pace as the two walked. Back in Novac, a crowd was starting to form, all wondering what the shot had been for. Someone screamed. Six turned away.

“Maybe I’ll wander, like you.” Boone turned to look at her. 

Six set a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me. Let’s go after the Legion.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“We’ll kill more with the two of us.”

“Yeah. That might be true - and that’s reason enough for me to take you up on it, I suppose. But this isn’t gonna’ end well.”

Boone huffed. He stopped in his tracks and nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”


End file.
